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Chester, England - January 1071

The Marshal of York pulled the fur around his neck as he looked down from a hill overlooking Chester. Below men of the North harried the routed Danes all over the battlefield. He had not been involved personally, but he could not help himself come see the victory. It had been proclaimed all across the North once word had come from Derby at the end of the previous month. The combined forces of Eadwin’s English Army and the Yorkist forces aided by The Saxon Band had soundly defeated the enemy and chased Knud’s Danes clear across the countryside. He wished to see this in all its glory.

It would not be good to be seen on the field of battle, he knew.

But Duke Morcar was far to the south and he was in no harm.

Certainly not once he spied the vanquished cowardly retreating any way they could. As he allowed a fine smile grace his face, his mount was spooked and he contained her as he turned to spy the Duke of Mercia and Lancaster ride up to meet him.

“Good Eadgar of Wessex! It is fine to see you here this cold day. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Duke Eadwin of Hwicce and I must say it is my pleasure to finally greet you personally. I have heard much and more of you these last long months!”

The Duke slowed his horse to stop next to Eadgar’s and they both turned back to watch the route below.

“I must say that I am well met, my Lord Duke. I too have heard of your exploits of late and my congratulations are certainly in order.”

“That and still,” Eadwin remained watching the flight of Danes, “It would not be proper if I did not warn you that your presence, as much as it is to my liking, may not be welcomed by others.”

Eadgar looked at him sideways with some reticence, “Do you mean Duke Morcar, my Lord Duke? I can assure you…”

“I would not be so quick at your assurance, my young would be King.”

The voice came from behind as the very figure of Duke Morcar slowly trotted his mount to stand on the other side of Eadgar.

“My Lord Duke…” Eadgar attempted an explanation but Morcar simply held up a hand.

“Be still, my Lord…I be not angry with you. After all, you can say you have brought about this great peace.”

“Peace, My Lord Duke?” Eadgar questioned.

“He means between the Lord Duke and myself, young Eadgar,” Duke Eadwin answered him.

“I did not think to find myself here, Lord Marshal, but yet here I am. And though he be a louse, he be my louse I suppose.” Morcar stifled a slight grin. Eadwin did not seem amused.

“You do treat me still with no thanks and little regard. But for the now, I shall forgive such words.”

“Forgive them as you wish, my Lord. But the truth sticks hard when it is accurate, I find.” Morcar did not seem in the mood to let up so Eadgar attempted to break in.

“My Lords…I am pleased to see this meeting more than you may know. After all, if there is to be true peace in the realm, we must all work together.”

“The boy speaks true, Morcar,” Eadwin smiled as he looked to his brother.

Duke Morcar did not find it as amusing as he returned the gaze, “Since you seem to have the favor of the fool Godwine and I, at present, do not; I am not sure who has the better of it. I’ll not bark so loudly for the now. Perhaps, good brother, you may tell young Eadgar why we have come so I can go back to hating you. It feels far better, of that you can be sure.”

Duke Eadwin caught Eadgar’s questioning look as he spoke, “As my brother suggests, there is reason we have travelled here. It is not coincidence that we are all so well met on this road. Prince- Bishop Æthelwine did let us know you would be here. You should do better with his kind should you wish to keep secrets.”

“It is no secret, my Lord Duke,” Eadgar stood tall in his saddle.

“Whether it is or no, my brother did seek me out once he had heard of the happenings of late. And while I in no way seek to reproach you of your clear thinking and sure assistance at Chesterfield in Derby, I can think of no reason why the troops of York should be out and about on this battlefield when we have it quite under control.”

Eadgar looked back to Duke Morcar, “My Lord Duke? There is much fighting left to be done and we have seen great success…”

“It is quite as he says, my young Lord. My brother will return and continue rooting out the Norsemen as needs be, though very few remain on the Isle and Prince Knudsen does run like a dog with his tail between his legs. The Irish Band is to the west wasting time in Somerset. And the Bastard and his Flemish allies seem to be living the high life in London with little thought of leaving such comforts. Should I need my men fighting, you may be sure I will call them out and they will be at the ready. You have done fine work here, but it is time to send the men home. I have need of you there.”

“My Lords…” Eadgar attempted to argue but Duke Eadwin cut him off.

“He speaks true as much as he is able. Your Prince-Bishop has had quite a hard time of it these days.” Eadwin could not help but offer some slight joy at these words as he laughed and Morcar was quick to continue in anger.

“The fool has angered a priest in Tottenham last he was south to bring me word. And then I am told that Thorold of Bolingbroke who currently rules as Earl of Wessex is seeking to see my title as Duke of Northumberland granted to someone else!”

“And I thought him to be a man of value, my Lord…” Eadwin allowed the words to sting as he meant them.

Morcar followed as he attempted to stifle his anger, “And I hear tell of a dangerous new scourge developing among the soldiers. Boils developing, I am told? It is no place for the brightest of men, my Lord Marshal. It may perhaps be for the likes of him, but certainly not for you.”

Eadwin did not respond, but it was clear there was concern from the look on his face.

“There are still many keeps between here and the south, my Lords…under the yoke of our enemies…surely there is need…”

Eadgar still tried to counsel but Morcar would not hear it. “My brother is capable enough as commander, my young Lord. Leave this business to him. I shall not ask again.”

Eadgar of Wessex did all he could to control his emotions, and finally acquiesced, “Then I will be to home. If you can forgive my brashness, my Lord Duke, I would be most thankful.”

Suddenly Morcar allowed his smile to return, “There is nothing to forgive. Praise be on you for this good work and I hope you may find more to do as you get back to York. We are in need of such at this time. I will be along soon myself before returning south. Give thanks for these victories, for they are well received by us both.”

“Then I shall tell the men and see you once more and soon, my Lord Duke,” Eadgar turned his mount quickly in hopes of keeping in the Duke’s graces. He spurred his horse with perhaps more anger than he intended but was soon on his way.

Morcar shifted his mount to move next to Eadwin. Looking out over the field of Danes fleeing his Yorkist forces and The Saxon Band, he smiled. “Best gold I ever spent.”

Duke Eadwin seemed slightly touched and offered to his brother, “Thank you, Morcar.”

Morcar moved to turn his horse in the direction of York but not before looking back to his brother with a toothy grin, “I wasn’t talking about hiring the Saxons, you great fool. But play at your thanks all you wish. My investment remains sound.”

Today's update

I must say. This is classic masterpiece

1mmanuel:
I must say. This is classic masterpiece

Thanks brother

York, England – May 1071

It was dark in the Duke’s inner chamber but as Eadgar held forth the candle, he soon spied Duke Morcar as he sat silent at the large oak table. What once was a fresh soup now sat cold and uneaten as the pallid figure of Morcar looked up to spy his Marshal. He did not speak, but did give over some slight smile as much as he was able. Eadgar moved closer and pulled a chair to sit as he held out the candle to see his full face.

There was a large bulbous wound at his neck that oozed pus, yellow sickness that stood in stark contrast with his pale face.

The sweat seemed to pour from his skin and he had little strength as witnessed by his poor attempt at a greeting. Reaching forward to grasp at Eadgar’s hand, his own stopped midway and landed with a thud on the table.

“I am sorry Atheling. I am to waste.”

“Come now, my Lord Duke,” Eadgar attempted some soothing words to keep his spirits lifted. “You will be better in a fortnight. It has hardly been but one moon since your sickness and yet you still live with us. All others have succumbed in quick time. You will live, sir.”

Morcar tried to smile, but it was clear the attempt was painful. “You do speak softly and well…my would be King. Would that your words were true. I know them always to be, but I fear…”

When he spit up some blood, he could no longer finish and Eadgar went to bring him some ale. He pulled the goblet to the Duke’s lips and allowed him to drink at it slowly. Once or twice, he seemed to choke, but it was clear that Morcar wished for such and so Eadgar helped him finish the drought.

“You are no fool, and that I know.” Morcar finally lifted his head and looked upon his Marshal.

“And you are a great Duke, and more…my father as much as I may know one.”

Morcar smiled and lifted a hand to reach out again and this time felt at Eadgar’s face. He allowed it to linger and though it was full of sweat, Eadgar did not try and stop him.

“See…we are all of the living. Though many be dead, we live, my Lord Duke. You will become better. This I know.”

As Eadgar cradled the Duke’s hand in his own, Morcar moved to lean back and yet again smiled. It was clear he was in some delirium, but he seemed to have a calm look upon his face and looked clearly into the Marshal’s eyes.

“What know you of your family?” he asked with a slight cough. Eadgar simply smiled, “Not much. And that is the truth. My father was a weak man that left me when I was young. His father, a strong one that I never knew. Why, my Lord?”

Morcar beckoned Eadgar to come closer as he pulled himself to the table as best he could, “One was King…one was not…what of the other?”

“The other, my Lord?” Eadgar asked, as he felt at the Duke’s head and found it burning hot.

“Æthelred…what know you of he?”

“Little and less, my Lord Duke. What import has this for today? You need sleep. These tales of years gone by can wait.”

“They cannot!” The Duke suddenly stood tall in his chair and pulled the empty goblet close for another drink. Not finding any, he slammed it down again. “And that is why!”

“You do speak strangely, my Lord…I am sorry to have disturbed you on this night.”

Eadgar attempted to rise but the Duke’s weak hand stopped him, “Do not leave me, my King. I will be fine. But you must…hear this.”

As Morcar slumped back in his chair, Eadgar rose to assist him and was battled by the Duke.

“I will be fine!” he roared with a strength either knew he possessed at that moment.

“Then speak, my Lord…tell me what you wish to say.”

Eadgar helped him to gently sit again and Morcar beckoned for another goblet of ale. As he drank, he sat back softly in his seat and began to tell Eadgar of a tale.

“There was once a noble squire. He found a love that was far beyond him in life, and she had a great beauty. He was the envy of every man, and she their desire. In due time, this woman brought many great men around her and the squire was not unhappy for it brought him great wealth and prestige in tow. As long as he did not grow unhappy. And happy, he was. And would remain. Though she lay with other men…and did speak unkindly of this squire many times…and cared not for the realm or people… she did find favor with the King. And the squire was happy still. And when that King found trouble in his life, he did go to this woman and ask for her advice and her advice was none to help the realm. It was always about herself.”

Duke Morcar began to cough and so Eadgar went to retrieve another drought but was stopped, “No…hear this Eadgar.”

As he sat again, the Duke continued, “Where was I? Ah yes…the wench and her paramour…but it was not she that was unready. Nor her squire husband who had also found favor with the King. And due to her great beauty, this squire was able to say many unwise things to this King such that he be unwise himself. He would eventually lose his crown because of this ill counsel. All because of the beauty of a woman.”

“You do speak in dreams, my Lord Duke,” Eadgar once more attempted to calm Morcar but it would be no good as the Duke screamed out.

“This is reality, boy! This is truth! This is history that you should well know!”

Eadgar sat back in his chair, unsure of what next to do to help the Duke. He finally asked, “And the moral, sir? The moral of the tale?”

“The moral? This is your question? The moral is that Æthelred was a perfectly ready king. He did not give over the Danegeld because he wished to lose his crown…except he knew not what was right. He was…ill-counseled. Unræd !”

“So you speak this story of my great grandfather…” Eadgar attempted to soothe the Duke.

“No sir! It is mine own blood! That is the ill counsel!”

Morcar moved to stand and fell by his chair causing Eadgar to help him back up. Morcar held tightly to the Marshal and pulled his face in close, “My! Own! Blood!”

Eadgar helped the Duke to sit once more as he pulled a rag to his face and wiped away the sweat. “You are unwell, my Lord Duke. You speak of strange things that you would not otherwise say. I will not remind you of this because you would not like it. You need sleep!”

“I need…” Morcar lifted his head to look into the man’s face, “…you to hear me. I give you no ill counsel. Especially now.”

“Move with me, my Lord…sleep will do you well,” Eadgar attempted to help the Duke once more to a nearby bed.

“You do not understand, my King…”

Eadgar moved Duke Morcar to lie down and pulled some covers over him that the Duke threw off immediately. “It is too hot!”

“Morcar!! You must rest!”

“You fool…” Morcar lay back on the bedding and smiled with his eyes closed. “YOU will need your rest. We are with child.”

The Duke began to laugh uncontrollably and Eadgar paid it little mind for a few moments before he realized what had been said.

“My Lord?”

“I speak true. While you have been so busy upgrading the city walls of Boston, it comes to me that your wife is with child.”

The Duke was moving to get comfortable with the bedding around him and Eadgar was forced to try and pull him back to lucidity, “What say you, my Lord?”

“I said you are going to have a child, Eadgar…and so am I.”

“A child, my Lord Duke? This is but one of your dreams brought on by sickness.”

“Aye…but it’s not.” Morcar was nearly asleep at this point, but still opened his eyes enough to look at Eadgar, “The Danes land foolishly on the Irish in the south, but what is our care? Hextilda is with child. And that child will receive no ill counsel.”

Eadgar of Wessex knew not what to say as he pulled the little bit of cover he could towards the Duke’s chin. Morcar seemed to drift off to sleep with a smile and a few last words, “Nor mine… Atheling. Nor mine.”

Today's update

lordseb:
Hey guys, I know it's been a while since you guys heard of me. well I've been pretty busy... ok that's a lie, my lappy got spoilt and I don't have a good phone but I've decided to return anyway with my first story to be completed, *laughs silently* i'm naming it HEIR TO THE THRONE, it'll be a historical fiction book, i'll be writing from the year 1045 - 1071 and i'll cover the events of William the Conqueror's conquest of England, so stay tuned cause its certainly gonna be a blast.

Good one dear meanwhile i can buy your stories if you want to sell outright or can hire you to write for me.

Was here

Immorttal:

Good one dear meanwhile i can buy your stories if you want to sell outright or can hire you to write for me.

Really? I'm interested, kinda broke

York, England – February 1072

The long year of 1071 drew to a close with many ill tidings, but few at Duke Morcar’s court seem to feel it as nothing could have brought them greater joy than the December births of two boys.

One was to Eadgar of Wessex and his wife, Hextilda. They named the boy Uhtræd, though Eadgar had hoped to honor his friend who still sat in the Bastard’s prison. Hextilda expressed misgivings that it might portend a bad omen. He was over-ruled.

The other boy was born not two weeks later to none other than Duke Morcar and his wife, the Duchess Adelhaid. After six long years of marriage and many attempts to bear him a son, she had finally done so. Though Morcar was very sick still, the birth of a son seemed to bring him from his illness such that no other potion or cure had yet been able to address. He named the boy Eadgar. Now, on this still cold February morning, he sat as he watched Adelhaid nurse the child and he smiled.

“My Lord Duke…you shall make me blush,” she said as she returned his look in kind.

“I shall make you do a great many things over the years, my wife. But none shall ever be so great as what you have already done. The pallor is lifted and I with it.”

“You do look much better to me, my Lord Duke. The color has returned to your face. Would you finally like to take the chance to hold little Eadgar?” she asked as she started to rise.

Morcar quickly lifted from his seat and backed away. “Not yet! No. It is not safe. I will not see a hair on his head harmed by me or any other.”

“As you wish, my Lord…but he does miss his papa.”

Duke Morcar grinned at the words and yet would not move any closer. “I shall leave you to it, my wife. Come to me should he feel any discomfort. I shall have all the healers in York here within the day.”

He bade her goodbye and moved with some slowness down the keep’s hall to his personal chamber. Though his illness had left him, he was still recovering his strength. He was determined to do so. As he passed through the door, he spied his Marshal looking over maps.

“A new father should not be working so hard, my Lord!” Morcar scolded with levity.

Eadgar looked up and smiled to see the Duke moving about. “I see this reprieve continues to last. I am sorry I was not here when the sickness abated…and surely sorry not to witness your great joy at the birth of your son!”

“Think nothing of it, my young Lord. Though you be not so young any more. Nor am I.” Morcar allowed himself to laugh at the joke and moved to take some small goblet of wine.

“But strong again. And that is of far more import,” Eadgar moved to him to see if he needed any help.

“I am not so weak as that, my Lord Marshal. Go back to your maps if you must work so diligently.”

Eadgar stood still and looked gratefully at Morcar.

“What?” the Duke asked.

“I am honored, my Lord Duke. That is all.”

Morcar took his drink and moved to sit, “Honored? Honored that I have had you working so hard and doing my bidding these last many months when you should have been home by the side of your wife who was with child? Honored that I refuse still to let you take my men to battle even though every argument you make is sense itself? How be you so honored, my Lord?”

“That you would name your only son after me. It is an honor for which I find myself most unworthy, but it is an honor nonetheless.”

“Bah!” Morcar waved a hand at the Marshal and took his drink down. “Leave off of these silly words and tell your Duke what is so very interesting about these maps you ponder.”

Eadgar simply smiled and moved back to the table, “Are you sure you wish to know?”

“Indeed…tell me how wonderful my brother has been doing in service to the King…and how the Hardrada is blown clear off the map to Hell…wait…no…tell me that the Bastard has finally corralled Godwine! Now that is a story I would find very pleasing.”

Eadgar turned with a serious look on his face, “I wish I could tell you such, my Lord Duke. But I cannot. Though Duke Eadwin was successful in gaining us back Chesterfield, he has made little progress throughout this past year. The Bastard has sacked Maldon this past December and now I am told Waltham falls to him as well. He now controls most of Wessex, Bedford, Essex and all of Middlesex.”

“So at least he has not been wasting his time.” Duke Morcar moved to fill another goblet. “Pray continue…”

“The Irish Band has yet to be contained by our Lord Godwine and has invested all of Somerset and now moves on Devon.”

“Of course they have,” the Duke only half-joked as he took down the wine. “And what of ancient Harald? What has our Lord of Foolishness and naught other been doing while I waste away in sickness?”

“Truthfully, my Lord Duke…there you have hit it directly. He has done little and less these last many months which causes me to believe that his forces are spent as are those of his Danish brethren. It is true that they still claim to hold many lands in the North…Harald in all of Lancaster and Burton still in Derby, while King Svend claims sway in all of Chester as well as strategic Ludlow near Shrewsbury…but…”

As Eadgar stopped to allow Morcar a chance to consider what he had said, the Duke stood as best he could and walked over to the maps himself. He looked at them for a moment and then back at his Marshal.

“You know what you ask of me, my Lord?” a slight glint in his eye already apparent.

“I do, my Lord Duke. I am sorry to continue pressing it, but I feel it is my duty in all ways and the wise move. We must take war to them now or forever see this land torn apart by non-stop aggression from any comer that may wish just a piece of this realm.”

The Duke kept his gaze squarely on his Marshal and while still showing a hint of excitement, his eyes were clear and focused, “Explain to me what you have in mind, and I will tell you if it be wise or no.”

“The Norsemen leave nothing to hold what they claim. It is ripe for the picking. If only your brother would take his forces south to meet with what little is left of them there, we could at the least remove one faction from this struggle. I have been training our fighting men hard for the better part of a year. They are more than ready to take this fight to any man that stands before them. But we must take action.”

“You do speak well on the matter, my Lord Marshal. And I can see that your considerations have been solid and true. I cannot promise what Eadwin may say, but I shall grant you the chance to call up a levy of men to take back these lands of the North.”

Morcar moved to sit once more but Eadgar stopped him as he said, “No my Lord.”

“No?” the Duke turned with not a little amount of anger beginning to well up inside. “What mean you by this?”

“I do beg forgiveness, but no. It is not enough to simply move our men to siege while nothing is done to stop the Norsemen in the south. Duke Eadwin must move if we do. Our forces must act as if one.”

The Duke had been sick for some time and though he was still weak in body, his mind was daily returning in strength and the anger inside him made him feel even better. But as he looked at his Marshal, he could see a resolve in the man that had until now not seemed entirely present. Eadgar of Wessex was certain in his thoughts and his gaze towards Morcar was focused and calm.

“It seems that fatherhood has done more for you than battle, my friend.” Morcar moved to place his arm on Eadgar’s shoulder.

“And of course, you are entirely correct.”

“I know not if that be the case, my Lord Duke…” Eadgar started to answer with great seriousness before Morcar stopped him.

“Fine…fine…it is as you say…I will go to my brother and try to extract some alliance if possible. I shall send Æthelwine to Hereford to treat with his men so that they will also pressure their Duke to act. I can see that you are well met with this proposition and I wish not to stop your planning. And I grow tired of arguing, my Lord…”

“And one more thing, my Lord Duke…” Eadgar pushed, “I will lead the good men of York this time and always.”

Morcar suddenly acted out in anger as he threw his cup to the ground and stood with a swiftness even he did not think he possessed at that time, “Do you take advantage of my weakness, boy?!”

“No my Lord,” Eadgar was quick to answer with calm. “I do what is right. And I will never again call men to war without leading them myself. You may say no to the adventure and I will allow you your prerogative to do so. I will respect your decision and return to the training of your soldiers and the needs of my wife. But you will know that you were wrong to deny me this. It is what I ask.”

Morcar allowed himself a moment before answering, and when he did, he too found a sense of calm, “I give you my apology, my Lord.”

“There is no need for that…” Eadgar began again but was stopped.

“Atheling…quit when you are ahead. Do you not see that you have bested me this day? It may be my weakness. Or it may be your strength. Either way, it matters not. I will push this for you…for me…for the men of the North so tired of this infernal war. I will push this if you would do just one thing for me?”

Eadgar was quick to answer, “You have not but to ask, my Lord Duke.”

“Would you do me the favor of holding my child for me?”

Eadgar of Wessex looked slightly confused at first but allowed his smile to return. “My Lord Duke…it would be my great pleasure to do so. And you will hold him too in good time.”

Duke Morcar took Eadgar’s arm as they began to walk from the room, “I do hope it. And to hold your boy too. It is truly my wish.”

“Rest assured, my Lord…there will be plenty of time for that. These two will grow as brothers, I promise you.”

“That has not been a pleasant thing in my history,” Morcar answered as he stopped for a moment and looked to Eadgar with a grin, “But God willing, history may change.”

Today's update, couldn't update on time cause there was no light

lordseb:

Really? I'm interested, kinda broke

your whatsapp number. Send it to liketermites@gmaildotcom

Immorttal:
your whatsapp number. Send it to liketermites@gmaildotcom

OK, thanks

Chester, England - May 1072

“So you have been to these grounds before, my Lord Marshal?”

the Baron of Richmond asked as he continued to pack his saddle bag and looked over his shoulder at Eadgar of Wessex.

“Yes…once at the least. But it was short-lived. I was not part of the vanguard, unfortunately.”

Osweald moved from his mount and returned to the smoldering fire, kicking a bit of dirt on it as he came close.

“Not as yet, my Lord…” Eadgar cautioned. “We know not when we shall have such again.”

The Marshal beckoned for him to take a seat and so Osweald did with a thud, his heavy set body not meant to sit so low. “You speak the truth, my Lord. But what of good Inwær? I had thought him to be here with you this time as it was he that I understand led the Duke’s forces back in those heady days of ’70.”

“I had need of him nearer to home.”

“I suspect that you did, what with a newborn and all. Ahh, it is a wonder,” Osweald tried to lean back in the grass until his large body caused him to stop.

Eadgar offered a snicker but answered truly, “It is that, my Lord. I understand you have a young one at home as well?”

“Yes…naught but two, but he is a handful. My good wife does have her horrors ahead of her, I am sad to say.”

“And you as well, my Lord,” Eadgar offered in good spirit.

“Aye, that is true. But not now as we be out on this road. And who knows if we will ever meet this Bastard of Normandy.”

Eadgar pushed with his boots to pile more dirt in front of the fire but still not ready to put it out. “It is not he that we shall face, my Lord, though it looks as though we may see some of his Norman goats.”

“A man can wish, yes?” Osweald looked to Eadgar with a smile.

“Yes…that they can do. In truth, however, it was never he that we were meant to fight. That was not the aim of this campaign.”

“Little you can do about that, my Lord,” Osweald said as he struggled to raise his portly figure from the ground.

Watching with some amusement, Eadgar joked, “It is a good thing you bring your archers from Richmond, my Lord.”

“It is a rule in my land that every male child be born with a bow in one hand and a gold coin in the other. That way, I shall always find something of worth in all the good peoples of Richmond.”

As the Baron went to find some dried beef, he laughed and the Marshal laughed with him. “If that be true, then we have no use for Godwine, Duke Eadwin, nor the French for that matter!”

Osweald turned with a wry smile and a wink, “Aye, but then the Danes would still be pissing about on the Isle. We have the French to be thankful for that, my Lord Marshal. The Danes beg out of the war and now we find a free road to the south.”

Eadgar knew it to be true. “Indeed, it seems King Svend did not count on that bit of melancholy. Two thousand Franks will cause such sadness.”

“Nor did Duke Eadwin, it seems,” Osweald said as he shuffled back and offered Eadgar a morsel.

The Marshal raised his hand kindly to decline as he answered, “He be thankful as much as I might be, my Lord. But would that Godwine had asked the French King to join in all the fun.”

“The Bastard is his vassal. Not so the Norseman. Two different conflicts, my Lord Marshal.”

As the Baron of Richmond tossed a bit more dirt on the fire, Eadgar finally stood and joined him. “You be right. And every little bit helps. The Franks are doing yeomen’s work to our north. It has allowed our movement and with the Duke of Mercia finally moving against those forces to the south…”

Osweald allowed a smile, “He has moved swiftly. I cannot argue. He bests the Norsemen and now the Irish. I hear he chases them clear across Somerset.”

“That he does. And now…so will we…” Eadgar allowed a larger smile as he pulled down his trousers. “…piss on this fire.”

The Baron laughed as he followed along and soon the fire was out and they began to gather the men for the long march south. The Baron did holler back at least once as the soldiers began to move, “If you get there first, Lord Marshal…save a few for me!”

* * *​

Guildford, England – December 1072

The Prince-Bishop Æthelwine pulled his robes up as he crossed the muddy ground, trying to keep them from getting any filthier.

He much preferred his life at the Court of York rather than traipsing around the country on one more mission for his Duke.

But he was given a charge, and after the last few years, he was loathe to offend Morcar any more than he had already done. He was in his thoughts and barely noticed when a young solider barreled past him and fell to the ground. The Chancellor sniffed and stepped over the boy without giving it a second thought. He looked up and spied the Duke’s tent and smiled as he straightened his mantle. Entering, he found Duke Morcar slightly in his cups but looking over various papers.

“My Lord Duke, I bring you good word from the King. He is said to be awaiting a new child any day now.”

Morcar looked up with clear frustration, “This is what you bring me? I tell you to go there and tell me all of Godwine’s activities and you can only tell me that he plows his wife often and well?” Æthelwine grew red in the face with embarrassment, “My Lord Duke…”

“Stuff that and tell me something else that I would like to hear!” Morcar growled.

“The Irish are no longer a presence. This should be to your liking.”

The Duke stood and moved to get another drought, “I already knew this, you fool. But like weeds, when one dies another rises to take its place.”

“No, my Lord Duke…Godwine has told me that they have brokered a truce and returned home with what little they have left to them.”

As Morcar turned, he started to drink slowly and once finished, placed down his cup with precision. “And I am certain he tells all who will listen of his bravery in the field at besting these wayward Celts and their barbarous ways.”

Uncertain how to answer, the Prince-Bishop suggested, “There were words spoken in this regard, my Lord Duke.”

“Indeed…but I’ll bet not of our Marshal’s forces that threw them from Devon and chased them to Cornwall where I must admit, I had to laugh.”

“Laugh, my Lord Duke?” Æthelwine asked.

“They did not know that instead of brave Saxons, they would be met by foolish Norsemen as they attempted yet one more landing. Gods balls, would I have enjoyed watching that fight.”

“It is true, that was a momentous occasion…” the Chancellor tried to placate.

“Momentous? My God man, in less than a month Eadgar’s army bested both the Norse and the Irish like a game of pass the ball. A strategic masterstroke is what it was!”

“He has done well, my Lord Duke. That is no small thing. Even Duke Eadwin was said to have sent a congratulatory note after the Marshal bested Count William of Evreux this past summer.”

The Duke seemed to grimace slightly at the suggestion, but filled another cup and drank it down before answering, “He has cut a swath from north to south, though his numbers are better every time. And the Baron’s archers strike true. And since my last dispatch from the Marshal had him routing the last of this Band’s forces in Devon once more, I know well the lack of Irish in the field, sir. So, perhaps you might tell your Duke something that he does not already know nor has little care for?!”

Prince-Bishop Æthelwine tried not to sweat under the heated gaze but he replied, “I wished for better tidings, my Lord Duke. But it is not that, I am afraid.”

Sensing the Chancellor’s reticence, Morcar moved to sit again and calmed his anger. “Simply say it, my Lord Bishop. Do not make me ask again.”

“It seems that the Danes have landed again, and are once more assisting Hardrada. They have a new King.”

The Duke seemed to find the news welcome as he smiled, “And I thought they were scared of King Philippe. Perhaps they are not the women I assumed.”

“My Lord Duke,” Æthelwine continued, “Harald has sent a further two thousand and added it to their strength.”

At this, Morcar lost his grin. “Damn the fools! Why will they not quit this game? It is clear he will not seat this throne and yet he persists!”

“Indeed, my Lord Duke. King Godwine was of much the same consideration. It did make him cease his talk of victory quite suddenly and completely.”

Morcar looked to his Chancellor with steely eyes, “That is all well and good, my Lord Bishop. But his embarrassment does not help us win this struggle. Nor does your persistence in giving me unwanted news. What am I doing here? Guarding the fool’s mint that he has little use for since he has little coin? Training his troops that he has barely the will to use? And what are you doing but going from here to there and gathering no intelligence in any way or wise?”

“I do have some news, my Lord Duke, that might bring you some pleasure, though it be not Christian for me to say with any glad tidings…” the Prince-Bishop took chance with a slight step forward.

Æthelwine continued, “…in my time at Hereford earlier this year, there was a rumor that Duke Eadwin had contracted consumption.

Sadly, that is not all the ill news that followed as I have also had word that his good wife Wulfgyth died in childbirth, though the baby does live in the form of a girl. I believe they named her Ælgifu. Further, it seems he wasted little time in contracting a new bride…some commoner…an Ealhswith of Mercia I believe, whom I am told is a paranoid and gluttonous creature that knows no bounds in her cruelty now that she has gained her lofty station.”

The Duke looked up at his Chancellor and allowed a large grin to wash across his face.

Sensing a victory, Æthelwine added, “As you are married to the beautiful and still very young daughter of an Hungarian King…a princess, my Lord Duke…with a strong and healthy boy child… and the Duke has fallen so low…”

Morcar stood and moved to pour another drink but this time handed the cup to Æthelwine, “If you had begun with this news, our meeting might have gone better, my Lord Bishop. But I am well met by this word and thus I will no longer scold you today.”

“Many thanks, my Lord Duke. It comes to me thankfully as the road has been weary.”

His Chancellor dropped his smile when Morcar responded, “And that is why I am sending you back to Hereford for the now to seek out much and more of this news for me to hear.”

The Prince-Bishop nodded though it was entirely not what he wished to hear. But he felt he must address one final issue. “Given this latest news and the sure victories our Marshal has seen over these last months, is it wise to keep him…in his lofty state?”

“Do you presume to tell me my worth, my Lord Bishop?” Morcar answered with an arched brow.

“No, my Lord Duke. Of course not. It is simply…well, it is true your star may begin to rise once more and I only thought that…”

The Duke could barely contain his fury but buried it deeply and answered with a calm voice, “You will go to Hereford and report back to me anything and all else, as I wish it. Marshal Eadgar will stay in the field and march on Wessex once more, as I wish it. And the next time I see you, you will speak to me words that I do not already know…as I wish it!”

Today's update

Immorttal:
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lordseb:

Sent you a mail but I've seen no whatsapp message from you, I'm still waiting.
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Immorttal:
so sorry, just seeing it, my storage was full thats why i didn't get notification. I will buzz you on whatsapp

Thanks, I'm waiting for your buzz

Dorset, England - April 1073

Eadgar of Wessex was not surprised when the Duke of York entered his tent. Morcar had made a point of late in traveling west to see how his protégé was doing and not trusting carriers to bring him dispatches with Normans all about Wessex. However, the Duke enjoyed the thrill of trying to sneak past the Bastard’s men as that was the only action he had seen since his brother had taken charge of the King’s forces in battle. The Marshal greeted him warmly and pulled a stool for him to sit.

“Many thanks, my Lord Marshal,” Duke Morcar answered as he rested his legs. “Days in the saddle do task my body. Now, if you had wine or ale, my tasked mind might also be better.”

Eadgar laughed and shifted to pull a flagon from a nearby satchel.

“Drink of this and be well, my Lord Duke. I am afraid it is not of great vintage, but it is all we have.”

After he took some down, the Duke allowed himself a heavy sigh. “It is fine enough for the likes of me. God knows we Saxons are better at ale than wine. One must go to France for that.”

“That is true. Might I ask what brings you west?” Eadgar asked as he too pulled up a stool to sit.

“Ironically, those same French, my Lord Marshal.” The Duke answered before taking another deep pull from the flagon.

“The French? What of them, my Lord Duke?”

Morcar sensed concern in his Marshal’s face and moved to calm him, “Nothing of trouble, I assure you. But it seems that the French King himself has joined his men to the north.”

“Ah yes…King Philippe the Great, I believe they call him. Why I know not, but better still, how does this concern our endeavor, my Lord Duke?” Eadgar answered, still curious.

“Truly, that we have need of him further to the south,” Morcar replied as he stretched his legs out in front of him trying to loosen them up.

“This I could not argue, my Lord Duke. I believe you are right, though his men have done great work at taking back our keeps throughout Lancaster. It is clear the Norsemen wish not to meet him in battle as they tarry in Suffolk. Would that this Great King could also assist our struggle against the Bastard.”

The Duke nodded, “Yes and true. But we know he will not. That still be Godwine’s war to win and for now he seems more inclined to sweet talk to his new baby girl Maud. I’ve of mind to think that her screams be more shattering than his, at present.”

The two shared a laugh before Eadgar pressed Morcar again, “So what of this French King? Do you intend to treat with him or will it be your brother that parlays?”

“Neither,” Morcar folded his arms and looked kindly on his Marshal, “It will be you that I will send to speak with him.”

“Me, my Lord?” Eadgar seemed shocked. “What have I to say to this King that he would not better accept from a rank such as yours?”

“It is just that, Eadgar. He knows of our internal struggle. He is well aware of your station and place in this world. I believe it just and proper to present you as an alternate to that which he deals with now.”

“If this be about our recent struggles against the Bastard, my Lord Duke, I assure you that we may continue to challenge him where we might and given our strength against his…”

The Duke raised a hand, “It is in no way a statement on your worth as a leader to these men. That has been exceptional. But as you say, our numbers do not match William’s. Not even when included with my brother’s, though he has not won himself many rewards.”

“Does he remain ill, my Lord?”

“He does, though his mettle is stronger than I assumed. He has not left the field, to his credit. I like it not, personally. But…”

Eadgar nodded, “…but we have need of him, all the same.”

“Quite.” Morcar took another pull from the flagon and then continued, “I could not have desired any more than you have already done these last months, my Lord Marshal. That we took back St. Swithun from the Normans was more than could be asked what with his forces all about. And how you have managed to escape his clutches time and again is truly as uncanny as it is devoutly to be wished.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” Eadgar responded waiting for the hammer to strike the anvil.

“But the truth is that our levies are raised too long. Though we have missed the planting season there have been enough available to do so this year. The men will be needed for the harvest in good time and my coffers are not enough to sustain a prolonged campaign in the face of two would be pretenders.”

“Three, my Lord Duke,” Eadgar joked as he began to see the wisdom in the Duke’s words.

“Indeed…three. So as it stands, we must see to it that one of these pretenders is pushed entirely from this war. There is naught that can be done about the Bastard for the now, and it is useless to have you here trying to escape his clutches when I could have you in York and treating with this French King to travel south and meet with Hardrada once and for all.”

Morcar said his words with pleading eyes and Eadgar understood. “My Lord Duke, you speak true.”

“Of course I do,” the Duke winked. “This is no demotion, Eadgar. This is an opportunity.”

“And many thanks, my Lord Duke. I agree that our goal was to push the Norsemen from this war and fear it has not been entirely successful. If this be yet another avenue for that, then I will take the men and attempt a break through to the north. I cannot say that I see it as an opportunity for myself, but that can wait.”

Duke Morcar sensed Eadgar’s dejection and replied, “It is more than you think, my would be King. Forget not that Godwine’s own sister is married to this French King…and his brother Prince Hughes to another of the girls of Harold Godwinson. As I said, this is a chance to prove an alternative and try and bring him onto your side as much as ours. Make use of this time and I dare say, I do not fear for your welfare. I would fear for his.”

Eadgar of Wessex allowed himself to smile and nodded, “Very well. I trust you are right. I will have the men move on the morrow and do what I can with this Philippe. As much as I hope you will do what you can to make it safely back to Guildford, my Lord Duke. I assume you mean to return?”

“That I do, my Lord. But not without one more ounce of courage,” the Duke winked once again and then took a final pull from the flagon of wine.

Today's update

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York, England - July 1073

It did not take Eadgar long to return to York. By the first of June, he was already planning a lavish feast to coincide with a great summer fair all in an effort to impress the French King, Philippe.

The fair was well under way when the King arrived with his long supply train and columns of infantry marching on either side of a line of horse and mounted knights that seemed to Eadgar to last for days. It did not take long for his nearly five thousand men at arms to join in the festivities and though there were some cultural clashes here and there, both parties seemed to be enjoying it greatly.

The Marshal’s first meeting with the young King Philippe was likewise a seeming success. Eadgar patiently waited for the King to travel slowly up the road and to a stop. Philippe moved from his mount with grace and allowed his squire to remove his mail coif. His hauberk he kept on over a fine silk tunic that draped well over his knees. The King did not move at first as he allowed a line of minstrels to keep passing as they played a lively piece all about Philippe’s fine victories. Once they had stopped, only then did he move and walk to the foot of the steps leading to the keep. It was left to Eadgar to come forward and down the steps to greet him.

This he did in perfect French. He even went so far as to give the King a bow before speaking.

This seemed to please Philippe and from that point on, there did not seem any acrimony or distrust between the two men. Eadgar did worry that the King might not be so impressed by the courses of food at the feast. He needn’t have worried as the King was perfectly happy that it was mostly fish that was served.

Apparently, Philippe was observing a holy practice that caused him to eat mostly lean foods in his diet. However, there was quite a hush that came over the gathered guests when the main course was served. Eadgar too kept his excitement low until he could gauge the King’s pleasure or disgust at what was presented.

The kitchens had prepared a chicken mounted on a pig and roasted whole. As the servants took it to the head table and laid it out in front of Philippe, the King at first did not make any face whatsoever. Eadgar began to get nervous at least until Philippe produced a giant grin and clapped with great pleasure.

“What do call this fantastic beast?” he called out to the hall.

“It is a Helmeted Cock, my Lord. I hoped that you would appreciate it,” Eadgar answered with a smile.

“Then you truly know me, my Lord. A shame my lady wife is not here to see it as she would find it most pleasurable.”

The crowd roared with laughter and clapped as King Philippe leaned over to Eadgar and whispered, “Take no offense if I do not partake. I shall feign it for the people but it does not fit with my holy rites, my lord.”

“Of course…it was more to impress than enjoy. I believe we have done our work then.”

“That you have,” the King replied before leaning to his other side and having some silent words with his Bishop, Arnault.

The rest of the feast seemed to follow quite smoothly with much music played and even some slight dancing, though the King to did not join in. He watched with a happy smile and even clapped a few times, offering a smile to Eadgar each time.

After the servants began clearing the food, the King finally turned to Eadgar and asked, “So your gracious host does not think to come see me or you, it seems. Should I be offended?”

Eadgar of Wessex thought quickly before replying, “He is unfortunately tasked elsewhere by another King, my Lord. It is not meant as offense, I promise you.”

“Then this King, perhaps…this shall be the one with which I might take up offense as he should know better than to deny me such a full and honorable greeting.”

“I could not say, my Lord…he does not seem to take to the role as you surely do,” Eadgar tried to be diplomatic.

“Just,” Philippe replied. “Shall we take our talk elsewhere and away from this mob? They do seem quite overtaken by gluttony it seems.”

Eadgar happily offered a hand and led King Philippe to the Duke’s inner chamber. As they walked, the King suggested, “For such a great noble, his Grace does seem to have a meager fortress. He would do well to enlarge it.”

“We have not had the chance of late, my Lord. Nor the understanding that you do in your realm. It will take some time to catch up, do you not think?”

The King smiled and entered Morcar’s chambers. He looked around and offered a slight sniff but said nothing. He found the wine set out as Eadgar had planned, and this time it was the finest vintage he could get from France so the King would be pleased. As Philippe tasted it, he offered yet another smile. “You have done your studies, Lord Eadgar. I am impressed.”

The Marshal nodded in thanks and offered for the King to take a seat. As Philippe did so, Eadgar moved to a table filled with maps and finally began his mission.

“My gracious King Philippe…you have done us all a great service that surely God has blessed. I hope you do not think it forward of me, but I wish to speak on our recent struggles here and we might then come to some type of agreement.”

Philippe smiled and nodded but answered, “I fear I am unable to treat with you in such an official capacity, my Lord Marshal. But do go on. I will be as candid as I am able as I hope you too shall be.”

Eadgar smiled and continued, “Aware I am of your treaty with our King Godwine and I in no ways wish to sully such in our talks. In truth, I would ask of you more.”

The young French King did not seem to take offense and in fact laughed, “Yes, I know…you would wish me to war on the Bastard. You know I cannot. He is my faithful vassal and I wish not to create strife in my lands where there is none.”

“Indeed, my Lord…so I shall not ask that of you. But there is the matter of Harald Hardrada and his ally, King Knud to consider to the south.”

“Truly…it is a matter I have in mind. One is very old and the other very young. I would worry about the elder were I too of such age. But as I am a youthful man still, I find Knud to be more fascinating.” Philippe took a drink and smiled as he waited for Eadgar to answer.

Instead, the Marshal moved to the table of maps and produced a new one he had received just for this occasion. He unfurled it and laid it out for the King.

“Would you care to look on this, my Lord? I believe you will appreciate it.”

Philippe did rise and moved to see the map, but not before pouring himself another goblet of wine. As he looked it over, he smiled happily, “This is fine work, Lord Eadgar. Most pleasing.”

“I thought you might find it so, my Lord. Especially as it shows how solid your realm has grown under my Lord’s great kingship. Your recent victory over the Emperor Heinrich was truly astounding such that people will talk of it for many years to come. And now that you have come to our aid in such a time…it surely shows what a benevolent and gracious master you are to your people and all of Europe.”

“You do flatter, Marshal. But what is your goal?” the King asked starkly but with a smile.

“I would ask that you travel south and meet with this so called Hard Ruler to show the world how a true King should act. I would ask that you show both Hardrada and his Dane companions what it is to feel the steel of a true Christian monarch. And I would ask you…if you do not, would you wish them ruling here as it be not many leagues from your own home?”

Suddenly the King lost his smile and looked on Eadgar with sharp eyes. “This be not flattery, Lord Marshal. You do try to seduce me, but your carrot is not enough for the stick, sir.”

Eadgar eyed him in return but kept up a smile, “Which is why I do not say the same about your vassal, William. Though he would be as much of a thorn to you, methinks. Especially with your troubles of late in Flanders. And the cousin in Burgundy…I am told he wishes your crown?”

King Philippe looked down at his feet for a moment as he allowed a slight laugh. When he looked back at Eadgar, he offered a slight grin. “I am impressed, my Lord Marshal. From the day I walked into this court, I knew that all considerations had been made. I never expected it to be this complete, however. Well done.”

“Well done would be to fight Hardrada and best him. And with the fine men you have already on this Isle that should be little hardship. We shall tackle the Bastard on our own. That would find me well met. Does it you, my Lord King?”

There was a moment when it seemed as if Philippe might grow angry once more but it was only fleeting before he flashed a wide grin, “I know not if you will ever seat this throne of England, my Lord…but if such should ever happen, you may count me as an ally.”

Eadgar smiled as the King went to gain one more goblet of wine as he laughed and called out behind him, “Well done!”

“Does this mean we may count on your support, my Lord?” Eadgar followed.

“Absolument! ” came the reply as Philippe drank down his wine and looked out the slight window at revelers below.

The Marshal nodded in relief, “I am off to Gainesborough in the morn, my Lord. It is my most heartfelt apology to offer as I would stay and keep your Lord’s grace were I able to do so. I do hope you will continue to enjoy our festivities and good hospitality for as long as you may wish. You may use the Duke’s Keep as your own if it be your pleasure. And I would be most grateful should you desire to rest with us in Lincoln as you travel south.”

King Philippe turned and nodded with thanks. “If this struggle of yours holds such import, I should not tarry in the least, my Lord Marshal. I shall have my Bishop say a blessing and be on the move within a fortnight.”

“A most gracious King,” Eadgar replied with a deep bow.

Today's update

Suffolk, England – November 1073

The Duke slowly trotted on his mount through the French camp and smiled as he saw many tired and dirtied men at arms laughing and playing at games as if this was no war at all. He finally came to a stop in front of King Philippe’s tent and stepped down with a thud. Two young squires immediately moved to assist him, one taking his horse for care and the other to ask his business.

“I come to see your liege,” Morcar replied as he continued to look around.

The squire ran quickly and soon Philippe’s Bishop, Arnault exited the tent and walked calmly towards the Duke, “My Lord…what brings you to Suffolk?”

“I come bearing congratulations for the most gracious of Kings, Lord Bishop. Please announce me, if you would.”

Bishop Arnault nodded but said in a whisper, “My liege is in his prayers at this time, my Lord Duke…give him but a moment.”

Morcar replied with a wave and kept his gaze towards the men at arms around him. He waited patiently at first but after several minutes turned to speak to the Bishop, “God’s time is more important than anyone’s, Lord Bishop. Does your King wish to keep Our Lord all to himself?”

The Bishop smiled and moved to the tent gesturing for Morcar to follow. As they entered, Morcar heard Bishop Arnault announce, “My liege, a Duke Morcar of House Hwicce comes to gain your pleasure if you would see him.”

The young King remained kneeling in front of a small altar for a few moments before he stood and turned towards the Duke.

“Many thanks, my Lord. I have long wished to look on you and was disappointed that you were not there to see me in York this summer.”

“It was my disappointment too, your Grace. I have heard a great many things for some time and wished to see you for myself. I do hope that you find us well met.”

“I do, my Lord,” Philippe answered as he moved to sit in an ornate chair in the center of the tent.

Morcar stifled an internal laugh at the pomp as he offered a bow, “Your most gracious King has certainly lived up to all words spoken of him as he has laid low all that stood against him these last months. Please count me as most grateful for your actions.”

“Do stand, my Lord Duke. We are all equals here. And your kindness precedes you. I and my men were most pleased at your hospitality this past summer and I particularly at the shrewdness of your Lord Marshal. We had much fun and I was duly impressed.”

Morcar rose and took a step forward, “This does make me happy, your Grace. It was my desire to see you fêted appropriately. I trusted none other than he to do you with all the honor you deserve.”

“That he did, my Lord…a most astute man, he is. It is a shame he is not your liege as I would like it more.”

“As would I. But we treat with what has been given, yes?”

Philippe nodded with a smile, “That we do.”

“And as we discuss Kings, I would ask…what think you of ours?”

“He is my lawful brother. What else would you have me say?”

Morcar spied a vessel of wine and moved to pour himself a goblet.

The Bishop was quick to shift and pour it himself.

“My Lord…” he said as he handed it to the Duke.

“My thanks,” Morcar answered as he looked from Arnault to the King, “I would have you say who you wish to be Lord of this realm? There be your lawful brother, yes. I understand his sister does make you quite happy. There also be the chance of your vassal, William. What think you of this?”

Philippe offered a smirk as he waved a hand for the Bishop to leave them, “What more could a King wish than another King as his vassal?”

Morcar nodded happily to the Bishop as he moved from the tent and once alone, changed his demeanor, “You would do wise…most gracious King…not to mettle too harshly in these lands.”

King Philippe did not offer any anger in return, “And you would do wise to keep your place. I know of your situation, my Lord…your brother does proceed you.”

“Indeed,” Morcar grinned, “He was most helpful as I understand it. His meager forces did route the Hardrada in September, yes?”

“You speak in jest, sir. What is your goal?”

“A united England without interference…would you not wish the same for your realm?”

The King offered a smile, “If you could do such, it would be a miracle…my Lord.”

“Then I thank you once again. You have done all and more to help that cause. Well…except for the Bastard.” Morcar moved to pour his own goblet of wine and Philippe let go of his smile.

“It is well that you were not in York this summer as I think I would not be so keen to help such a cause.”

“But you did, your Grace,” Morcar answered with a sharp smile. Philippe took a step to stand from his chair and moved to speak directly, “You have much ambition, of that I can see. How that will help you in this realm…I know not.”

“Thanks to your largesse, I am one step closer. And for that I also thank you.”

“You are a snake, Morcar of House Hwicce, who slithers in the grass until it bites. Why a good man such as Eadgar of Wessex toils in your employ, I know not. But he not be served well by the likes of you. This I know.”

Duke Morcar allowed a smile as he answered, “And I know that you will return home with all of your victories in hand and leave this realm as poor off as it already was. You will foolishly allow your vassal to take this throne as you think it will give you some prestige, though I think not. And then you will go back to plowing your Saxon bride as you Franks think naught but of conquest.”

The young King was nearly to a fit of pique as he responded, “We have bested the Danes…we have bested the men of the north…we have done all of that without any help from your own brother…or any other Saxon man that thinks they can fight. What makes you think there is anything but ill to take from this land?”

“None, your Grace…which is why you should return home to your comforts. You have done your part.” Morcar took his drink and moved to leave the tent.

The French King was in a rage at such words and moved to follow, “We shall see when my man bests yours!”

Morcar allowed a turn to respond, “That we will…most gracious King. And my man will win.”

Today's update

Guildford, England – May 1074

Duke Morcar was attempting to rest his eyes for a moment, but a hacking cough grew louder outside his field tent. Without opening them, he knew exactly who it was and was curious about the reason for the visit. He would soon find out as Duke Eadwin entered looking pale and feverish, coughing madly.

“Would that I could get some sleep,” Morcar spoke in jest still without opening his eyes.

“If you would like, I could help you with that. A sharp blade to the neck would give you a great restful sleep and me one less headache,” his brother responded as the cough subsided slightly.

Opening one eye, Morcar smiled, “You would like that, I am sure. But it is too late for you. My lands are safely in the hands of an heir more to my liking.”

Duke Morcar finally rose and shifted to a bowl of cold water and splashed his face. He then turned and reached for two cups of ale, offering one to Duke Eadwin. “So how is it my honor that I should see you here today, my Lord?”

Eadwin accepted the ale and drank it down quickly before he spoke, “Good news and more, it would seem. Our blessed Isle has one less pretender vacationing here and seeking to make this home permanent.”

Morcar looked up with wild eyes, “Which one?!”

“Hardrada, of course. After the thrashing he received from our most gracious King of the Franks, both the Norsemen and King Knud’s Danes have fled never to return. The truce is signed.”

Eadwin smiled and handed back the cup hoping for another. The Duke of York obliged as he grinned, “Do you come from Godwine? What was his mood?”

“In fact, I do not. The last few months have seen me run from this place to that in a vain attempt to avoid losing the last men at my disposal.”

While Morcar wished to smile at that, he could not as he knew precisely what it meant. “The Bastard will not so easily leave.”

“Godwine has once more attempted to raise fresh levies, but I am afraid they do no better than give William eight to one odds at best.” Eadwin began a cough again but stifled it.

“You are still not well, brother. I would say it concerns me, but alas it does not. But you are in no shape to lead these men with good odds or no.”

Duke Eadwin allowed a smile, “Think not to replace me, good brother. Your favor is still no better with our King of Godwin. He’s quite pleased to keep you here, though I hear you do not always stay in one place.”

“I know not what you mean,” Morcar moved to pour himself another cup feigning ignorance.

“You are like a magician, both here and there at once. I have heard tales of your treat with the French King. He was not pleased, I am told.”

Morcar smiled and shrugged, “He did not like my suggestions, sadly. I thought I had him well met and gave him only the best of advice.”

“I am sure. He certainly made a quick voyage home.” Eadwin grinned knowing full well what was said.

“And where else am I said to be, my good brother?” Morcar asked as he offered up another cup of ale.

Eadwin took it and drank, finding it soothing to his aching throat. “Your Prince-Bishop comes to see me again to tell me of your joyous news.”

“Oh?” Morcar answered with a grin.

“Come now, brother…if it be true that you are to have another child then somehow you must be spending more time with sweet Adelhaid than training these men…unless you have a surrogate acting in your place…which perhaps she prefers?”

Morcar did not let the goading get to him, “Indeed, she is with child yet again. I hope it to be another healthy boy child. They are a blessing, do you not think? Oh wait…you have only the girl.”

“Your spite might be the best thing about you, brother. Well, one should offer congratulations. And I do. I am too old and too ill to keep at this war between us while we still have the Bastard to best. Perhaps once he is defeated, I shall find new vigor for the fun and games between us.”

“When he is defeated? Or if he is defeated?” Morcar offered. “These are two different outcomes, good brother. I am afraid one is more likely than another and we had better begin thinking of what to do in the worst case.”

Eadwin pulled a dirty rag from his side and wiped his sweating brow, “You continue your plotting, Morcar. I have a war to win and naught else. I will leave this to you since you seem to have so much idle time on your hands.”

Morcar offered a snicker, “Indeed…and your plots are atrocious. I knew you were behind that fool Thorold and his sneaky ways…but oh they did end once William the Bastard came calling and the idiot lost his keep.”

Duke Eadwin wished to offer a smile but was exhausted and began another coughing fit. Morcar moved to get him another cup of ale and handed it to him. Eadwin drank it down quickly and the cough subsided a little.

“My thanks, Morcar. I know not what will end me sooner…you, the Bastard or this infernal disease.”

“Well, I truly hope not that it is the disease. What would be the fun in that?” Morcar replied.

Eadwin tried to laugh but starting coughing again, this time producing a slight bit of blood. “Fun or no, we go on.”

“Can you not find some rest while Godwine gets his men in order for this latest push?”

“No and not at all. It seems the fool has decided to create the Duchy of Wessex all for himself and has ordered us to take it for him. The bloody nerve…” Eadwin answered as he began to gather his bag.

“By God…he is hopeless. I doubt my man at home will like that very much.” Morcar answered.

“What can he do? He is naught but a Marshal in your employ and no King to fight for it himself. What is he doing, by the way? Why do you not have him here with you, at the least? God knows I don’t wish to see him back in the field and showing me up, but surely there are better things to play at than a servant.”

“I have him in Gainesborough overseeing construction of a militia yard for the training of my men. He is exactly where he needs to be, rest assured.” Morcar moved to pour another bit of ale and drank it down as he thought to himself.

Eadwin nodded a goodbye as he moved to leave the tent, “Very well. Many thanks for the ale, my brother. When next we see each other, I hope it to be more spirited and perhaps even a little bloody. That will mean we have won.”

After he left, Morcar sat again and once more closed his eyes. But this time, he was not resting. He was, in fact, quite busy.

Today's update, sorry for not posting on time guys, I ran out of data but I'm now back on track.