Part One - The Lords of Normandy
I am Hugue de Montfort. I was born and raised at the newly coronated King William's court, and we grew up fast friends. After his campaign and victory in England, he decided I was worthy enough a knight and friend that I be granted land. I was overjoyed to hear I had been granted the County of Rouen and Barony of Lillebonne. More joy still when I arrived at my new home to find my wife and daughted settled in; my wife holding a little boy that undoubtedly was my new-born son, Richard. Although I would've been far more pleased to name him myself, I was away on campaign, and Richard is no bad name. The King has a son named Richard, eleven years of age. Perhaps little Richard will become friends with the prince when he grows up, as I became long friends with William.
I rest a day, and share stories about the war with my wife and children, but women know little of war, and I am under the impression they care little, too. Richard is too young to understand, but telling him the stories as I hold him over my shoulder makes me think of what a great future might lie in store for him. The following day I am introduced to my court. I am welcomed by some six men, as well as my wife and children, in the castle's main hall. They bow down as I enter and seat myself on the richly decorated throne. Most of my life I spent in this castle and around it. It felt weird sitting on the throne that was once my friend's. The five men introduce themselves to me as I command them to stand. The first is a sturdy man, and need no introduction, for he is a friend and loyal to both the King and me. It is Herman d'Appleby, a good, skilled knight with great strategic insight. I fondly recall we rode side-by-side on several occasions during the campaign in England. "My lord, Rouen's castle's men are all loyal to you, and stand ready to defend your holdings. If it please you, I would be your marshal." I nod at Herman, "It would, my friend, and I hereby name you Master of the Horse." Herman smiles fondly, bows, and thanks me for the honour. Next is a robed man I do not know. He bows his head as he steps forward. "Bishop Richard of Fecamp, my lord. I will be your most loyal chancellor and friend, if you will it so." I nod and the next man to introduce himself steps forward, bowing curtly. "Mayor Turold of Arques. I am good with coin, and I will be good with yours too, if I may, my lord." "You would be my steward?" "Yes, my lord." "Very well." I smile out of a sense of courtliness, but I feel no good will for this man as of yet. "Archambaud de Coucy, your court chaplain." A fat man says in a light tone of voice, with a peculiar accent. He keeps his head bowed as he speaks, before stepping back. The last to introduce himself is a man robed in black. He bows not, and looks me straight in the eye as he introduces himself. "Rorgues de Saint Maixent, my lord. I own some... minor estates, and some little birds." I give him a puzzled look. "Birds?" "Yes, my lord. I would be your spymaster." "A spymaster? So be it." I can't say I care much for this man's looks, nor his tone of voice. He seems full of himself, but I am currently not yet in a comfortable enough position that I make a fool of myself by dismissing possibly skilled men.
We go about the business of the day before I announce that I would like to have a grand hunt organised. "In honour of your new titles, my liege?" asks Turold, the steward. "Certainly, and for good sport." I reply.
Some days pass before the hunt is organised and we set off into the lush forests of Rouen. The hunt is largely uneventful. We spear a great boar and roast it later, making a wholesome meal.
It is the first week of March, 1067. I find myself at my desk in my solar. Someone knocks on the door. "Come in.", I announce. My chancellor, Bishop Richard enters, a letter in his hands. "M'lord, this letter arrived, a rider from the king." He lies the letter before me; it has the King's seal on it. I check the seal, and it appears unscathed. I cut open the seal with a small knife, and fold the letter open. I read out aloud the news this letter brings:
This news startles me. Duke of Normandy. The King would seem to have no interest in his homeland left at all. I can't say I am not pleased with the title, of course. And then there's the fact my daughter will be a princess. I can't but agree, of course. William is the King, after all. I command Richard, who is still at my desk, to organise the lords of Normandy to come pledge their loyalty to me as their Duke, and for him to write a response to the King. "I will of course accept the King's bestowal, and his suggestion of a marriage."
It is the first week of September, 1067. Joyous news arrives me whilst I dine with my family. My wife believes she is pregnant. I give her a long smile and kiss her on the cheek. "Thank the Lord we may be so blessed." "You hear, Isabel? You might be getting a new brother or sister." Isabel laughs the way only a little girl could, and I feel truly content.
A few weeks ago, I bought a proud hawk for hunting. I have been enjoying the sport immensely, and rabbit has been on the castle's tables for days. The cook says he has trouble finding new recipes. I believe I may have found a fitting lifestyle.
It is the second week of April, 1068. Today, my wife gave birth to not one son, but two! The Lord has truly blessed me in this. I named the first William, the second Hugue. They both look like healthy young toddlers, and me and my wife were both extremely happy. I have ordered the council to organise a feast in honour of this event.
The feast is held only a month later, and I spend half my personal coin on organising the matter. I take particular pride in the food I had arranged. All my vassals had been invited and all turned up. The night was long and merry. I even became good friends with one of my councillors.
It is now three years after the invasion of England. I received terrible news today. The King's beloved wife has died in an accident. Noone could tell me how exactly, and rumours are the accident might have been set up. Who would want to kill the King's wife, though?
Several weeks after the event, the King has found it fit to re-marry a local noblewoman. She is from the family of de Crepon, who are Norman Counts landed in England. I offered him my sincerest congratulations through letter, as I could not attend the event.
A black day! On the 21st of April 1070, King William the Conqueror has passed away after a period of illness. The news reached me by letter. William, dead? He had always been a healthy man, and it is hard to think an illness claimed him at the age of 43. I sit in my solar silently weeping and drinking wine by myself that night. It is hard to imagine my lifelong friend is dead.
I can only hope the new King, Robert, will be as good a friend...
End of chapter One.
