I: Robert Takes a Dunk, February 2, 1314
Philippe le Bel
Banned
You ever realize that some of the best moments occur when someone says, "Fuck it"? Well this is one of those moments.
Robert of Artois prowled back and forth on the deck of the wide, flat bottomed boat that was taking him across the Channel. It was a troubled night, the frigid wind tossing his auburn hair this way and that, the waves slapping against the hull and sending sheets of icy foam onto the deck. The only light came from a few paltry lamps and from the ghostly half moon that often ducked behind clouds as if afraid of the storm it illumed. The sails were down, oars in, and they had anchored for the night to weather the storm.
“Common enough kinda weather,” the Norman captain had said (in atrocious French) to Robert with a shrug and a bow.
Robert had slapped one huge hand down on the man’s shoulder, making him wince, and laughed. “Good man, I’ve waited more than ten years to do something like what I am about to. One more night isn’t going to put me off, oh no, I’m more clever than those slut cousins of mine!”
Typical Robert
The captain backed away, fearful of this giant, clearly one of the nobility that ruled France. The captain wasn’t educated enough to know, but Robert was Count of Beaumont-le-Roger, Lord of Conches-en-Ouche, and of Domfront, and of Mehun-sur-Yevre. He was one of the preeminent nobles of the realm, great-great-grandson of King Louis VIII “the Lion”. He had the wide, staring blue eyes of all the Capetians, and he surpassed them all in height and build. Huge, tall even for a noble, let alone for the poorly fed serfs to whom he was a giant, almost seven feet tall, built like an oak. He stood on the deck in his scarlet boots and scarlet hose and scarlet vest and scarlet cloak, and laughed as the captain backed away, laughed now that his revenge was coming.
His father, only son of Count Robert II of Artois, had died from battle wounds in 1298. Then Robert II died fighting the Flandrians at Courtrai in 1302 leaving young grandson Robert, aged only 15 years, to fend for himself against his vicious thief of an aunt Mahaut, who had stolen Artois from him...with the king’s consent! Yes, Robert bore no tender feelings for his king, Philippe IV the Fair, who had given Mahaut the important county and then married two of his sons to her bitch daughters!
Well well, wasn’t that peachy for Mahaut, but she would know soon enough, all of France would know, that her daughters were sluts, committing all kinds of perverted acts with two mere equerries [1], betraying their husbands the princes Philippe and Charles, and by extension King Philippe and the kingdom itself. Ahhh, but Robert would love to be there to break Mahaut’s wicked old heart with the knowledge! And there was their cousin too, Marguerite, married to Louis who was heir to the throne, and very chummy with Mahaut and her slut brood.
Now Robert had a plan, and was headed for the only place where he would be taken seriously, where he wouldn’t be dismissed out of hand--for it was well known how much he hated Mahaut--or even arrested and punished for slander. No, he wouldn’t risk that, he was shrewder than all that. He was headed for Queen Isabelle of England, daughter of King Philippe, who would undoubtedly want to help him uncover this wanton shame on the house of Capet.
“Yesss,” he hissed now, the captain having gone belowdecks to try to sleep through the storm while sailors skipped and skidded around huge Robert, making sure the ship was in order. “I’ll have you sluts, God be my witness!” he shouted, sending the sailors ducking in fear of this powerful lord.
Though the dark night had been full of wind and rain, there had been no thunder or lightning. But suddenly a bar of white light shot down, as if from heaven, and struck the ship at Robert’s feet. The lightning strike snapped the ship in two almost immediately, so strong it was. Though the sailors struggled for hours to stay afloat and alive in that mercilessly cold water between the isle of Great Britain and the Continent, they all ended in going under miserably. The captain drowned still shut inside his cabin, unable to get out, under water. Robert himself, thrown like a stone into the water by the lightning strike, sank swiftly to the bottom, never to be seen again.
[1] An officer of the household or young noble manservant, a step up from squire but below knight. More on the domestic side
Well there we go folks, the first installment in what will hopefully be a long and fruitful TL, beginning in the early 14th century with the death of Robert of Artois crossing the Channel being the POD. An obvious influence for me is Maurice Druon’s “The Iron King” and its sequels, amazing novels that, while they take a few artistic liberties with respect to history, generally stay true to the plot that has unfolded. My characters won’t be as extreme as his, you’ll see, and I’ll be focusing on different aspects of France, and England, and the Empire, too. Expect great things from a France that sees a continuation of the Capetian line, at least some of King Philippe IV’s constructive policies, and which avoids the wasteful and disastrous early Valois kings. Don’t expect story-like updates to be the order of the day either, I expect to mix it up pretty well
The Third Race of Kings
Robert Takes a Dunk, February 2, 1314
Robert of Artois prowled back and forth on the deck of the wide, flat bottomed boat that was taking him across the Channel. It was a troubled night, the frigid wind tossing his auburn hair this way and that, the waves slapping against the hull and sending sheets of icy foam onto the deck. The only light came from a few paltry lamps and from the ghostly half moon that often ducked behind clouds as if afraid of the storm it illumed. The sails were down, oars in, and they had anchored for the night to weather the storm.
“Common enough kinda weather,” the Norman captain had said (in atrocious French) to Robert with a shrug and a bow.
Robert had slapped one huge hand down on the man’s shoulder, making him wince, and laughed. “Good man, I’ve waited more than ten years to do something like what I am about to. One more night isn’t going to put me off, oh no, I’m more clever than those slut cousins of mine!”
Typical Robert
The captain backed away, fearful of this giant, clearly one of the nobility that ruled France. The captain wasn’t educated enough to know, but Robert was Count of Beaumont-le-Roger, Lord of Conches-en-Ouche, and of Domfront, and of Mehun-sur-Yevre. He was one of the preeminent nobles of the realm, great-great-grandson of King Louis VIII “the Lion”. He had the wide, staring blue eyes of all the Capetians, and he surpassed them all in height and build. Huge, tall even for a noble, let alone for the poorly fed serfs to whom he was a giant, almost seven feet tall, built like an oak. He stood on the deck in his scarlet boots and scarlet hose and scarlet vest and scarlet cloak, and laughed as the captain backed away, laughed now that his revenge was coming.
His father, only son of Count Robert II of Artois, had died from battle wounds in 1298. Then Robert II died fighting the Flandrians at Courtrai in 1302 leaving young grandson Robert, aged only 15 years, to fend for himself against his vicious thief of an aunt Mahaut, who had stolen Artois from him...with the king’s consent! Yes, Robert bore no tender feelings for his king, Philippe IV the Fair, who had given Mahaut the important county and then married two of his sons to her bitch daughters!
Well well, wasn’t that peachy for Mahaut, but she would know soon enough, all of France would know, that her daughters were sluts, committing all kinds of perverted acts with two mere equerries [1], betraying their husbands the princes Philippe and Charles, and by extension King Philippe and the kingdom itself. Ahhh, but Robert would love to be there to break Mahaut’s wicked old heart with the knowledge! And there was their cousin too, Marguerite, married to Louis who was heir to the throne, and very chummy with Mahaut and her slut brood.
Now Robert had a plan, and was headed for the only place where he would be taken seriously, where he wouldn’t be dismissed out of hand--for it was well known how much he hated Mahaut--or even arrested and punished for slander. No, he wouldn’t risk that, he was shrewder than all that. He was headed for Queen Isabelle of England, daughter of King Philippe, who would undoubtedly want to help him uncover this wanton shame on the house of Capet.
“Yesss,” he hissed now, the captain having gone belowdecks to try to sleep through the storm while sailors skipped and skidded around huge Robert, making sure the ship was in order. “I’ll have you sluts, God be my witness!” he shouted, sending the sailors ducking in fear of this powerful lord.
Though the dark night had been full of wind and rain, there had been no thunder or lightning. But suddenly a bar of white light shot down, as if from heaven, and struck the ship at Robert’s feet. The lightning strike snapped the ship in two almost immediately, so strong it was. Though the sailors struggled for hours to stay afloat and alive in that mercilessly cold water between the isle of Great Britain and the Continent, they all ended in going under miserably. The captain drowned still shut inside his cabin, unable to get out, under water. Robert himself, thrown like a stone into the water by the lightning strike, sank swiftly to the bottom, never to be seen again.
[1] An officer of the household or young noble manservant, a step up from squire but below knight. More on the domestic side
Well there we go folks, the first installment in what will hopefully be a long and fruitful TL, beginning in the early 14th century with the death of Robert of Artois crossing the Channel being the POD. An obvious influence for me is Maurice Druon’s “The Iron King” and its sequels, amazing novels that, while they take a few artistic liberties with respect to history, generally stay true to the plot that has unfolded. My characters won’t be as extreme as his, you’ll see, and I’ll be focusing on different aspects of France, and England, and the Empire, too. Expect great things from a France that sees a continuation of the Capetian line, at least some of King Philippe IV’s constructive policies, and which avoids the wasteful and disastrous early Valois kings. Don’t expect story-like updates to be the order of the day either, I expect to mix it up pretty well
