Episode 3: Henry Of Kent
Prologue
The wind blew angrily across the countryside of Hertfordshire, whistling a harsh and lonely symphony through the autumn trees. Paulus was stood alone atop a hill, staring out at the bleak horizon. His army was in disarray. Most were dead or dying. His crown lay by his feet in the mud.
Kiwi
4 days ago...
Kiwi rode confidently by the side of his king. Battle was fast approaching. Most men would be scared right now, but not him. War comforted him. Violence was the most straightforward solution to any problem. In fact, for Kiwi, there was not a problem in the world he didn't think could be solved with a sword. So far, it was a philosophy which had served him well in life. After all, here he was, Chancellor of England and part of the royal entourage. How many other men could say that? And his position in the kings court was getting better all the time. This war with Curtis was proving to be the making of him. Hopefully Kiwi could continue to prove his worth in the upcoming battle.
The plan was simple. Meet the combined forces of Curtis and Russ and break through the enemy lines to reach London, whereupon they would put a stop to the revolutionary Henry's stupid but ill timed rebellion. The siege of London had to be broken. Vital supplies had been cut off when Henry started his siege, and they were now in need of them more than ever. Kiwi looked at the king. He was lost in thought. Kiwi thought better than to disturb him.
Much of the day's march was spent in silent anticipation of the impending battle. But by sunset the drama was beginning. Scouts had reported that the enemy army mere miles away. Kiwi smiled. It was close. Excitement spread across the ranks quickly, as everyone geared up for battle. And as soon as the combined forces of Russ and Curtis came into view further down the road, the adrenaline started to kick in.
"Kiwi, take your cavalry and head for the trees," Paulus commanded. "I want you to deal their ranks a quick and decisive blow, and try create an opening for us."
"No problem," Kiwi said. He knew that the king hadn't approved of his strong headed approach to warfare at first, but that was changing. He was been trusted with key tasks more and more. Kiwi led his cavalry to some dense woods to the side of the road and lay in wait. He turned to one of his pale faced men and grinned.
"This is going to be fun!"
The man smiled back meekly.
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Ninefingers
A matter of days ago, he had reluctantly taken his army far from it's secure position outside the walls of Copenhagen, to protect the distant villages on the outskirts of his lands from Bryce. He knew full well that the raids were just a way of luring him, but he had taken the bait all the same. And now he was paying for it. He was tied to the back of a horse, surrounded by enemy Norsemen. They were escorting him through a cold and miserable wood. Bryce had defeated and captured him in battle. It was vicious and hard fought, but ultimately the younger kings endurance had won out. Ninefingers had no doubt that he was been taken to a keep somewhere, probably to meet Bryce, and be forced to surrender his kingdom. And sure enough, when the dismal walls of a crumbling old fort situated by a craggy cliff came into view, he was proved correct.
"Ah...my prison. Thank you for the escort gentlemen, I can make my own way from here."
"Nice try, but we're not letting you out of our sight," one of the stony faced guards replied.
"You Norsemen lack a sense of humour," Niney sighed.
They stopped by the doors to the keep and dragged NIney off his horse.
When he arrived inside, he was taken to a plush room with wine and books and other nice things. The only sign that he was a prisoner was the guards by the door. Niney had been expecting a cold dungeon. It seemed that chivalry was not lost on Bryce. Eventually, his captor and came and met him, as expected.
"Hey man," Bryce said, standing in the doorway.
"I know what you be here for," Ninefingers said nonchalantly, pouring himself a cup of wine. "I will surrender. You won fair and square and I am in no position to negotiate."
Bryce laughed. "Oh Ninefingers! I didn't just come to get you to surrender. I thought we could sit and have a chat. Maybe a few drinks too!"
Ninefingers shook his head. "This is all just a game to you, isn't it, boy? I was the same once. You will learn the hard way."
Bryce sighed. You are no fun!"
Niney took a big gulp of wine. "Please, just give me the declaration so I can sign it and leave."
Byrce shrugged and handed Niney a piece of parchment. He began to write.
It was official. Ninefingers was no longer king.
"So...what becomes of me now? Exile, I suppose?"
"Ninefingers you do me wrong," Bryce replied. "I am merciful to my enemies. You will go back home to your lands a duke, and serve under me."
Ninefingers grimaced. He didn't know if he could stomach serving his usurper.
"I don't think I can bring myself to do that."
"Well, if you would prefer exile...a life in a foreign court, stripped of all your wealth and titles, begging for aid which will never come, I won't stop you. It would be less trouble for me actually."
Ninefingers bit his lip. He was a man of his word, and knew that if he accepted to serve under Bryce, he could not plot against him. He despised the backstabbing lords who plotted against their lieges. Exile offered opportunities to seek foreign aid, but the only country which may care enough to help him, England, was embroiled in war. Bryce was offering him a respectable position. He could go home...live out his last days in peace. Running the kingdom had been nothing but stress lately anyway.
"What will it be?" Bryce asked.
Ninefingers hesitated, before bowing stiffly. "I suppose you are my new liege."
The kingdom of Norway had suddenly become bigger. But how long could Bryce hold onto it. A foreign army was approaching from Byzantium. The prospect of the impending battle was daunting.
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Patrick
Patrick strode through the gates of Paris atop his horse. Peasants looked up at him in awe of his beauty.
The lord reagent had travelled day and night to reach the capital, hoping to stay ahead of the devilish lords under his command. He had no doubt that already many plotted the new Queen's death. Patrick could be forgiven for seeming overly paranoid. The fate of Oyster Boy's dynasty rested in the hands of this last survivor. He could not fail her. He eventually reached Saint-Séverin, one of the biggest churches in the city. He was not as well acquainted with Genevieve as he was with her younger brother, but he knew she was a zealous type, and could very often be found making her daily prayers in the local churches. This one in particular Patrick had heard she frequented.
He got off his horse and passed it to a grim looking stable boy, before entering the wide expanse of the church hall. It was a beautifully made place, with stained glass windows and sculpted walls, displaying various scenes out of the bible. Patrick himself was not a religious man, he merely practised the traditions of the church because it was expected. But he couldn't help but admire the power of a building such as this. His footsteps reverberated as he walked down the aisles to the altar, where a woman was kneeling with her back turned, whispering. It was her. She didn't appear to have heard him enter. Patrick watched for a while, reluctant to interrupt her prayers, before finally clearing his throat. She turned to face him, startled.
"Oh my...lord reagent!" She stood and bowed. "To what do I owe this honour?"
Patrick smiled faintly. "It is I who should be bowing to you my lady."
Genevieve faltered. "Oh my, what do you mean?"
"I bring bad news...of your brother," Patrick stammered, "He...he passed away but a few days ago."
Genevieve did not respond for a while. She turned away and hid her face. Patrick stood there awkwardly. Moments later she turned back around, with tears in her eyes.
"Oh my, that is terrible!" she said.
"I am sorry, my lady" Patrick said. "Here in the mortal realm, he was an infirm...in heaven, he truly will be in a better place."
The words tasted bitter in his mouth. He doubted everything he just said, but it was expected of him.
"Yes," Genevieve said. "Indeed. Heaven."
Patrick frowned. Genevieve didn't sound wholly convinced either. Patrick quickly brushed the thought aside.
"What other news did you come to bring?" Genevieve asked, wiping her tears.
Patrick sighed, and proceeded to tell her the rest. When he was done, she looked very surprised.
"I am the Queen? Are you sure?"
"The first queen in Europe," Patrick nodded. "Some manipulations of the succession laws have made it possible. And I have a marriage candidate too, for your approval. An ambitious lord, currently fighting for his claim to the throne of England."
"Dear me," Genevieve said. "But what makes you think I am up to the task?"
"My lady...or should I say, your grace, I owe it to your family to try and make sure that your dynasty stays intact. You HAVE to be up to the task."
Patrick paused. "However, we are treading new ground here...dangerous ground even. There is widespread opposition to this idea. The lords of the realm expect anarchy under a woman's rule. Which is why for the time being, I must continue on as regent.
"To ease me into rule?"
"Precisely. Let us give the lords time to accept this change. They will in the end."
Genevieve nodded. "Well, this is all quite a shock...what now?"
"Now your grace, I should escort your immediately to your court in Versailles."
Patrick hesitated as they turned to leave the church. He spotted something rather odd around the queen's neck.
"Erm, your grace...your necklace..."
Genevieve looked down. "Oops! Silly me. Must have got taffled or something." She quickly began fumbling with it.
Patrick shrugged. "Fair enough...let's go!"
By day break they were on their way.
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Rita
Rita heard the sound of horses hooves and other chaotic rabble in the distance, heading in her direction. She was among a band of whores who had taken to following war camps around, and this one just so happened to be following Curtis'. Rita had been here for days, trying to blend in and get a hold of of the ginger usurper who had so heartlessly betrayed her trust and pillaged her land. It had been a strange experience so far. The soldiers of Curtis and Roos's army had made frequent visits to the tents of the travelling whores, and thankfully, Rita had so far managed to avoid any propositions. But she made a pretty good woman, and the longer she stayed in this place, the more likely she would have to go all the way to keep her disguise. Which would prove to be a problem! Hopefully it wouldn't come to that though. Rita only had eyes for one man, and she had to make sure that only that one man took her to bed. She didn't want to have to kill a random soldier and alert anyone to her presence.
But her chance was fast approaching to get Curtis alone. That is, if he hadn't gotten himself captured or killed. He had set off with his army earlier that day to meet Paulus in battle. The approaching rabble was the returning army.
Though whether they had been victorious or not was disputable. Rita could hear no cheering. Eventually, the army came into view, and she quickly made out Curtis and Roos riding side by side. Her fellow whores stood watching intently.
"Looks like I won't be bedding a king today," one of them said.
"That doesn't look like a winning army does it," Rita said, feigning disappointment. There was no obvious signs of celebration among the soldiers. Rita had to wait several minutes for news to arrive, as the first trickle of soldiers started to arrive to pick up a girl. "Those bastard cavalry threw us off guard," she heard one say. "They were lucky, but they won't survive another battle like that," another replied.
Rita figured the battle must have been a stalemate, but costly to both sides. It seemed there was hope for Paulus yet. Hopefully, she could be the one to end this war for the king, and get back in his good books, as well as take her vengeance. Suddenly a clamour of women rushed ahead of her. She looked up. The commanders had arrived, the knights, the generals...and more importantly, Curtis. He was mere feet away. Rita felt the dagger in her pocket. She could make a mad dash and surprise the ginger bastard here and now...but that would probably get her killed immediately, and there was no guarantees she would even reach him.
No, she had to do this the hard way. But she had competition. The classiest of the whores were clamouring around, vying for the attention of the leaders. They had the most money, it only made sense. What ensued was a ferocious bidding war between the whores, in which they kept offering lower and lower prices. Curtis watched them clamour around him with his perma :D
He pulled out a full looking purse and counted his coins.
"Gee ladies, why don't I just pay for you all?"
They laughed. Rita stayed back. If she was going to get Curtis' attention, she figured she had a better chance of doing so by staying back and looking uninterested. However, he had not even glanced at her yet. Curtis was used to women clamouring around him. If she could offer something different, she might just get his attention. But right now he seemed very happy with been surrounded by girls who were very much doing their best to get his attention. Rita continued to ignore the scene. It was her best bet.
Eventually, it seemed that her plan did indeed work, when the ginger bastard strode over to her with his entourage, atop his horse.
"What is your name?" He asked curiously.
"Bo---Rita," Rita stammered.
"Well Borita, why is it that you don't vye for my company like all these other pretty ladies? You must know that I pay the best sum of all around here."
Rita swallowed. She had to muster up as much courage as possible to say what she was about to say.
"Well, lord Curtis, the reason is quite simple...you can not afford me."
There were several gasps of outrage. Curtis silenced them with a hand and grinned.
"Is that so?"
"Indeed. I charge a kings rates...and you are no king."
Curtis laughed. "Then why are you travelling with us?"
"Because someone told me a king was here...I must have been mistaken with the other one."
Rita stood up and started to walk away. "I suppose I will be leaving then."
"Hey!" Curtis called after her. "How much do you charge? We will see if I cannot afford you!"
Rita smiled. She had his attention. She turned back around to face Curtis.
"300 pieces of silver."
Roos snorted. "That is extortionate! Get on your way!"
Curtis was not laughing though. Rita had read him right. He was not king yet, and he had a point to prove.
"Why do you command such a high price?"
Rita grinned. "That is for me to know and you to find out. But it doesn't look like you will be any time soon."
Rita turned away again and started walking.
"Stop!" Curtis yelled. "I am a king in all but name."
Rita had him. She turned.
"Then prove it."
Curtis grinned. "Very well, 300 pieces of silver for the lovely Rita."
His entourage looked on in disbelief.
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Henry
Henry stood proudly with his ragtag revolutionary army. Morale had never been higher. The evil heart of the evil empire lay before his troops. The walls were crumbling before the attack of his catapults. It had been several weeks, but now an opening was beginning to emerge. Once the city of London fell, Henry would be hailed the greatest hero Kent had ever seen.
"My lord!" Henrys messenger snapped him out of his day dreaming. "My lord, the kings army approaches!"
"What?!" Henry exclaimed.
"From the West, a thousand men!"
Henry rushed out of his tent to check the situation out. Sure enough, a vast army was approaching on the outskirts of the siege camp.
"Look out boys! Looks like the evil emperor has come to try and break our siege!"
"There is too many," his messenger yelled despondently.
Henry slapped him like the little bitch he was.
"There is NEVER too many!"
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Paulus
Paul eyed the minute siege camp in the distance outside the badly damaged walls of his capital. His head ached, and he longed for sleep. His army was exhausted. The battle against Roos and Curtis had been successful enough to break through, but they had lost at least half of their men in the process, and the remaining half were too tired for more battle. Even Kiwi was tired of fighting.
FF0 rode to his side.
"Perhaps we should keep moving past the siege camp and set up elsewhere, out of sight. We cannot fight in our current condition."
"Agreed," Paulus said. "Henry can wait another day. Send word to the men to keep marching. Henry will not engage us if we don't engage him. We are too numerous."
Unfortunately, this flawless logic ignored one thing. Henry was insane. As the army continued marching well out of the way, movement was seen from the enemy camp. A tiny band of men were racing towards them, all manner of weapons in their hands.
"What are they doing?" Paulus asked in astonishment.
Kiwi looked at them, disgruntled. "They...they are charging."
"Oh fuck!"
Paulus ordered his tired army into formation. The freedom fighters made a fearful sight. They were fresh, and clearly insane. Paulus looked wearily to his side. His men didn't look committed to their formations. Many were half turned toward the tree line behind them. He realised what was going to happen all too late.
"Stick to your formation!" Paulus boomed. But no sooner had he shouted this, then half his army broke away and staggered off. There was no time to try and get them back, as seconds later Henry's freedom fighters were upon them. Paulus and his personal guard had trouble simply dealing with one of them, and for every one they took down, they lost about ten of their own. Paulus swore as more descended on their position. They vastly outnumbered the enemy, but it didn't matter. He couldn't believe this was happening. This was not how he imagined defeat. Of all the people who were going to put the final nail in the coffin, it was fucking Henry. Paulus could not stomach that.
The battle was a total defeat. His army had simply been too tired to keep fighting. And now an uncertain future lay ahead.
TBC
