Season 2 Finale!
December 1067
King Ninefingers army was camped on the outskirts of Copenhagen.
He was holding counsel with his general.
"Your grace, the enemy scouting party has headed back to Norway. It was believed that King Bryce himself was among them."
Ninefingers shook his head. "He came that far into our territory with a small scouting party? One wrong move and this war would have been over. This young Norwegian king is bold but foolish. We should take note of that."
"Might I make a suggestion, your grace."
"Yes, "Ninefingers said. "That is your job."
"I believe we should take the attack to Bryce. His army is still mobilizing whereas we are ready to strike now."
"No," Ninefingers said bluntly. "We don't know their country. It is wild and unpredictable. We will stay here...let them come to us."
His general shrugged. "As you say, your grace."
Back in England, Jeffrey was sat in his study in Oxford. There were many books in there. Books on Latin, books on the roman empire, books by Plato, books about King Arthur...all sorts. But Jeffrey couldn't read any of them. It was a skill he had never learnt.
"My lord," his servant called, appearing at the door.
Jeffrey looked up quizzically. "Oh men, what is it?"
"You have a visitor."
"Cool! Send him in!"
The servant bowed. "As you command."
His visitor appeared moments later, smiling reassuringly.
"Hey Jeffrey!" Boc said.
"Hey Boc, it has been a while!"
Boc laughed. "It certainly has...why, the last time I saw you was before the king arrested you for killing his wife!"
Jeff grimaced. "Oh men, was it that long ago? Yes...well I was very naughty Boc."
"Don't be silly!" Boc said reassuringly. "It was not your fault at all!"
"Really?" Jeffrey asked.
"Really!" Boc said, taking a seat. "So Jeffrey, how are you these days?"
"Oh you know...same old! Although recently, one of my earls came down with an army, demanding a seat from me!"
"Well that is terrible!"
"I know right! I said to my servants 'hey we have plenty of seats, just go get one from the dining area, I don't mind' but they were having none of it."
There was an awkward silence. "So," Boc said eventually, "Let's discuss more important matters!"
"Such as?" Jeffrey asked curiously.
"Jeffrey...do you remember the secret club?"
Jeffrey didn't. "Um...no Boc, I can't say I do."
"Oh really?" Boc said. "Surely you haven't forgotten about it? It was such fun."
"Hm...secret club?" he pondered.
"It was started in Westminster!" Boc said. "You must remember!"
Jeffrey smiled with sudden realisation. "Oh my god! Yes!"
Boc smiled. "You remember?"
Jeffrey nodded. "Those were fun times Boc. But what about it?"
"Well Jeffrey, I have good news! The club is still around. And we want you back in!"
"Seriously?" Jeffrey said, beaming.
"Seriously!" Boc stood. "We will talk more soon, I must go and talk to Earl Robert now. He is in the club too! And when he knows you are, you won't have to worry about him coming and demanding seats from you anymore!" Boc gave Jeffrey a thumbs up and headed for the door to the study. He opened it to come face to face with Jeffrey's servant, who bowed courteously. Boc nodded at him and left.
"Bye Boc!" Jeffrey called after him.
The servant closed the door and faced Jeffrey. "My lord," he said sternly.
"Yes?"
"You must send word to the King at once and inform him of Duke Boc and Lord Robert's treason."
Jeff gaped at him. "Treason?!"
"The king ordered you to let him know the moment anybody approached you about a secret pact...Boc just did."
"Oh men," Jeffrey cried. "Oh men oh men oh men! I must write to the king at once." He pondered that a moment. "Although...I cannot write!"
The servant sighed. "Get me some parchment, and I will write for you."
Boc was soon going to find himself in trouble!
In Ireland, Leos was having problems.
The attempted assassination of his troublesome priest had damaged his reputation, and now Thomas Becket was drumming up opposition to Leos amongst the common folk.
"This is absurd!" Leos said, slamming his fist against a wall. "This bastard priest is turning my own people against me!"
"You did try to kill him my lord," his general murmured. Leos went red with rage and turned to face him. "What the fuck did you just say?"
The general fumbled nervously. "My lord, I only meant-"
"It was your fucking idea!" Leos yelled, charging at his general and knocking him to the ground. He began battering him. "You screwed this up!" Leos shouted, smashing the generals head against the floor. "This was your fucking fault!"
He stood up panting, kicked the general in the face, and left him knocked out. He wiped his brow and turned to a trio of nervous looking captains who had watched the whole thing. Leos pointed to one at random. "You...you are my new general."
Then he gestured to the bloody heap on the ground. "That is what happens if you screw up...now fuck off."
The new general and the other captains complied quickly. When they left, Leos buried his head in his hands. "All this trouble over one priest...shit. What have I done?"
He was running out of options. If he let this fester, soon his realm would be torn apart yet again. Assassination had failed, and the cost had been immense. It had left a black stain on his honour, which he personally did not care about but all his subjects did. He couldn't risk trying assassination again. He didn't have the money for it anyway. That only left imprisonment. He could imprison Becket, but that would be viewed as an act of tyranny. But at this point what did he have to lose? The assassination was public knowledge.
Leos walked out into the courtyard of his castle. He called for attention. Everybody immediately fell silent and looked his way.
"That priest is going to tear the fucking kingdom apart. The kingdom we are working so hard to rebuild. I want him arrested immediately!"
A large party left that day to carry out the order...
In Westminster, Paulus was reading a letter from Jeffrey. It was confirmation of Paulus's worst fears. According to the letter, Boc had approached Jeffrey to invite him into an alliance with himself and Earl Robert.
"I trusted him," Paulus muttered. "And this is how he repays my trust...By plotting against me."
He scrunched the letter up and went searching for Kristoff. He found his anti pope praying in the chambers the king had allocated to him. Paulus knocked on the door. Kristoff turned, surprised to see him. "Your grace?"
"Sorry to interrupt your praying." Paulus murmured.
"Not at all, your grace," Kristoff replied. "My prayers can wait. What can I do for you?"
"I need your help with something," the king said, passing Kristoff a note.
Kristoff took it and read...
"Wow," he said when finished. "Boc always seemed so pleasant."
"I know," Paulus muttered. "He never gave me a reason to mistrust him."
"There is no need to worry your grace. He will answer for his sins."
"It is his treasons I want him to answer for, Paulus said bitterly.
"In time, your grace. That will follow."
By the end of the day, Boc was excommunicated from the church...
Paulus sighed. "I am going to need to find a new chancellor." But the king knew that even though Boc was a traitor, finding a replacement for him would be difficult.
In Iceland, King Ari sat shivering in his fancy new castle. Since usurping the throne of Iceland (which was less a throne and more an old wooden chair) from Mercator the Idle, he had done very little...in truth there was very little to do, other than have snow ball fights. King Ari had expected much and more from leadership. Where were the matters of state to discuss? The diplomacy to conduct? The intrigue of court?
So far being king of the snowmen was no different from being an ordinary snowman. Ari couldn't help wondering if that is why his predecessor had lasted so long on the throne. There didn't appear to be any need of a ruler. The only regular attendants at court were an old woman and a scraggy cat named Tuppence. And they were content just to sit and stare at Ari as he shifted on the throne uncomfortably for hours on end. Just the other day, he had tried to liven things up a bit by trying to ransom Mercator back to his closest living family.
And they refused! His own family didn't think Mercator was worth a measly 10 gold! So now Ari had a useless prisoner laying in his dungeons. He couldn't ransom him, so he was left with one of three choices:
1: Release him
2: Execute him
3: Let him rot
Ari could release him, but there would be no fun in that. And he wasn't going to execute him, no way. He wasn't Vernon. Which only left him with option number 3. It looked like Mercator was going to be spending the foreseeable future in the dungeons. All in all, Ari was finding ruling to be really shit so far. He yearned for real power. But where could he turn to find it?
Back in England, Boc was two days ride from Oxford with his entourage, and was now on his way back home to Lancaster. He had not lied to the king when he said he needed to tend to his own lands, but the main purpose of his journey had been to invite Jeffrey back to Curtis's cause. The Curtis faction would benefit from having the power of Oxford behind it, and Jeffrey had proved useful in the past. Boc wasn't sure when Curtis was planning to make a move against the king. They had gathered a significant amount of support, but they weren't ready yet. Curtis wanted absolute assurance of victory.
"Halt!" A voice cried out from behind him. Boc turned around in time to see a column of knights heading up the road behind his own. He was surprised to spot Jeffrey amongst them.
"What brings you all this way?" Boc asked uncertainly, as Jeffrey rode up beside him. "Westminster is the other way Jeff!"
"Oh men Boc...I don't know how to say this!"
Boc frowned. "How to say what, Jeff?"
"Well...you are kind of...under arrest."
Boc raised his eyebrows. "You are kidding me right..."
Jeffrey shook his head solemnly. Jeffrey's servant beside him took up speaking for him. He was grinning smugly. Boc doubted he was simply a servant.
"No joke, my lord. You have been charged with heresy. The great pope Kristoff has excommunicated you at the kings behest."
"Heresy?" Boc stammered.
"Yes, heresy. Though that is not your real crime. Your real crime is treason. Plotting to depose the king."
Boc shook his head. He couldn't believe the king had finally found out.
The servant continued. "Yes Boc. We know all about your plan to put yourself on the throne."
Boc paused at that. He almost laughed, but checked himself. This was a really bad situation, but if they didn't know about Curtis, it might be best he went quietly. If Curtis was still safe there might be a way out of this for him. So he went along with it. "These are serious charges. What is to be done with me?"
"You are to be brought to Westminster and locked in the dungeons, until such a time that his grace has decided what to do with you."
Boc shrugged. "Fine...the sooner we get to Westminster the sooner I can prove my innocence."
"Save it traitor," the servant said, as he put Boc in chains.
Perhaps the king was not so easy to fool as first thought. This was unexpected.
Several days later in Northampton, Robert was sat in his keep, lost in thought. He was holding the monthly council meeting for the city, alongside Dylan and the other councillors, but his head was elsewhere. Since Oxford had been denied to him by Paulus's intervention, he had been in low spirits. After all that hard work he was pushed down by the king to allow an incompetent fool to remain in power. It made no sense. It would make sense if the King knew that Robert was backing Duke Curtis to depose him, but if the king knew that he would be in a dungeon...or worse. So it seemed to Robert that Paulus simply preferred to surround himself with utter fools.
"My lord," a courtier entered the room, interrupting him from his gloomy thoughts. "Sorry to interrupt my lord, but a letter just arrived for you."
Robert sighed. "Let's have a look," he said, as the courtier handed him a rolled up piece of parchment. Robert noted the seal. It was his great liege lord Jeffrey's. He smiled wryly. He didn't know the fool could write. He opened it.
Robert stared at it in silence for a long time. Had he really just read that?
"What is it?" Dylan asked, reminding Robert that he wasn't alone.
"Bad news..." he muttered.
"You have gone pale," Dylan said. "Let me see." The prince snatched the letter out of Roberts hands and read. He cursed when he was finished. And rightly so. If Robert was going down, Dylan was going down with him. Robert had willingly harboured the exile prince when no one else would. And even that was when he had a chance of usurping the throne of Scotland from his batshit insane brother Vernon..
"They won't even let me be an earl," Robert said dully. "It seems they mean to utterly ruin me."
Dylan looked at him angrily. "Are you just going to sit there and take this?"
Robert shrugged. "What choice do I have? Jeffrey can call upon all the strength of Oxford if I refuse."
"But...if you surrender...you are nothing..."
"Yes well...I aimed high and I lost. And when you lose this game, you lose all."
Dylan looked disgusted with him. "What happened to the man who I first met when I arrived here? The man who had big plans for the future?"
"He lost," Robert said calmly. "I tried to take Oxford, the king took offence at the infighting in the realm, and this is my punishment."
The rest of the council was looking on awkwardly.
Dylan was red with anger now. "If you surrender, you are condemning me to death! I have nowhere else to go!"
"There is always somewhere," Robert said, rubbing his eyes.
"I searched the whole kingdom until I came across this place," Dylan stressed. "There is nowhere else for me."
"I am sorry Dylan, it is-"
"My lord!" The courtier was back. He looked exasperated. "My lord...more news...riders have just returned from the field. They say they spotted a party heading for Westminster. Duke Jeffrey was heading it, followed by Duke Boc...who was...he was in chains my lord. He has been imprisoned."
Robert shot Dylan a knowing look. "Everybody leave us at once," he demanded. The room emptied in seconds.
Now Dylan had gone pale. "He...he knows. Paulus knows! What if he knows about me too?"
"Calm down," Robert said, sighing with relief. "This might just be the best news of the day."
"How can you say that?" Dylan asked incredulously.
"The king has arrested Boc...and it just so happens he is trying to get rid of me too...he is making a move against the faction, but he might not know everything. We must act fast if we are to stand a chance."
Dylan looked up, clearly not understanding, but with a flicker of hope on his face. "What must we do?"
Robert smiled. "We need to write to Curtis...immediately. We may not be out the game just yet."
In Ireland, Leos was watching the soldiers he had sent out to arrest Thomas Becket returning to his castle. He searched and searched but could not see the church man amidst their ranks anywhere.
"If they have failed to arrest him, I have half a mind to kill them all," he muttered to himself.
Sure enough, as they entered his hall, he could see by the fearful look on their faces that they had failed. When they explained, the situation was revealed to be a whole lot worse...
"He is a fucking priest!" Leos yelled. "One priest...how can you fail to arrest him!"
Not one of them had an explanation. "Christ! I guess I am going to have to sort this out myself. Bring me my armour!"
Within the hour, Leos was on horseback, heading to deal with this churchman himself. He was going to beat this priest into submission, and make him accept imprisonment.
In Westminster, Paulus was sat on the throne, Jeff stood before him. It had been a week since Boc's arrest. The king was trying to figure out the details of the conspiracy against him, but is was difficult given how frustratingly stupid Jeffrey was.
"So, let's go over this again," Paulus said. "Chancellor Boc approached you and asked you to conspire against me with him and Robert in a bid to steal the throne? Correct?"
"No," Jeffrey said.
Paulus facepalmed. "Jeffrey...you did well escorting Boc here, but I need answers!"
Jeffrey thought long and hard, and finally said "I don't understand."
"For fuck sake Jeff." Paulus was losing his patience. "Tell me what happened again...exactly what happened. From the beginning."
"Ok," Jeff said. "Well, I was sitting in my study, wishing I could read books, and then there was a knock at the door. And then I said 'come in', and then-"
"Jeffrey stop! Stop! There is no need for so much detail. Just start from when Boc entered the room."
"Oh men, ok." Jeffrey started again. "Well, Boc said he wanted me to join the secret club again, because-"
"Wait...what?" Paulus couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What do you mean again? You were in this club before?"
Jeffrey nodded uncertainly.
"Jeffrey...you never cease to amaze me."
"Thank you, your grace! Yes...I was in the secret club before. I was very much looking forward to being in it again."
Paulus looked at Jeffrey in astonishment. "The amount of treasons you have unwittingly committed would probably account for every lords and ladies in the realm ten times over Jeff. Tell me about the first time you were in the secret club. How did that come to be?"
"Well, I was exploring a random part of the castle here, and I just happened to walk in on them talking to each other in secret!"
"Them being Boc and Robert?" Paulus asked. "That doesn't make sense Jeffrey. Robert has never visited court."
"No no," Jeff said. "Them being Boc and
Curtis."
Paulus gasped. "Shit."
"I know right," Jeffrey said. "So they totally had this club going, and I-"
Paulus stood abruptly, cutting Jeff off. He felt light-headed. Boc didn't want his throne...somebody else did. That was when a courtier entered from the halls.
"Your grace," he said amiably, passing a letter into his hands. "From Duke Curtis of York."
Paulus opened it wearily.
Curtis must have been warned about Boc's imprisonment very quickly to have been so prepared for this. Jeffrey was stood over his shoulder, looking as confused as ever.
"Jeffrey...if you had any wits about you at all, you could have prevented this."
Jeffrey looked at him, clueless. "Prevented what?"
Paulus sighed. "Never mind...I will not be blackmailed."
Another week passed, and the war began.
The realm was divided...
Curtis had rallied much of the North, whilst the south remained mostly loyal to Paulus.
Shortly after the start of the war, the English army was immediately called out of Scotland.
There was a more pressing matter to deal with right now.
To be continued...
