The Herald
12-26-2016, 02:58 PM
December, 1174AD
The King waited. Only he wasn't a King. He stood proudly, with guards to either side of him and behind, only they weren’t there for his protection. They’ve taken his sword, his armour, removed him from the very island he was born on, and endured five months of squalor in captivity, but he was alive, and his pride might survive as well.
The door opens, and enters a King, only this one wasn’t a pretender like him, the guards answerable to the one who has entered the room; the power he wields over the imprisoned King immense, the ability to end him and his line with one breath being his.
But he doesn’t, looking indifferently at his captive as he comes closer, fully dressed in his suit of armour, perhaps done to mock the King who was caught in battle.
‘Your Majesty.’ Said the prisoner, with no airs attached to it.
Standing in front of his captive, with only the table in between them, the King stood as he looked at his prisoner.
‘Take a seat, Your Majesty.’ He said to his prisoner, a smile creeping onto his face.
Pulling his seat out, the guard next to the prisoner sat his charge down. Pulling out his, the King raised his hand and said ‘I’ll stand.’
The guard pushed the chair back into place and moved back behind the King.
‘William the first of Scotland, brother of Malcolm the fourth, and son of Henry; heir apparent of the Kingdom of Scot-, of Alba.’ Said the King as he looked down, his captive returning the glare.
‘Henry the second the King of England, Lord of Ireland, the Duke of Normandy, of Aquitaine, Count of Anjou, Maine, Nantes, and murderer of Thomas Becket.’ William said as he looked up at Henry, who nodded his head.
‘Now that introductions have been observed, we could perhaps proceed with the terms of your release?’ Henry said, placing his gauntlet hands on the back of his seat.
‘After five months at Falaise in Norman luxury, I almost thought you forgot about me?’ William said.
‘Yes,’ Henry said, almost to himself as he became lost in his own thoughts, before resuming his focus on William ‘My duties have kept me from coming sooner, with war across my empire against enemies from both within and without, though, not as much from the north of England.’
A silence grew after what Henry said, William declining to look at his captor in the eyes. Turning to address the guard behind him, Henry said ‘bring me the sword.’ Bowing, the guard left the room before closing the door behind him.
‘Am I to be executed?’ William said sternly, looking at Henry with grimace.
‘No, you are not to be executed,’ Henry said ‘but I can’t allow you to leave until you’ve agreed to my terms.’
‘I decline your terms!’ William said defiantly, leaning on the table towards Henry, who stood immobile at his outburst. Only the guards flinched, their hands on their weapons.
‘Fiery to the last, William,’ Henry said ‘your strength and your weakness. It took you into my lands, laid siege to my castles, and finally, got you captured and brought here.’
‘But you weren’t alone in your machinations? It took the rebellion of my three sons, my wife, the lords and barons of my Kingdom, and the King of France to bring you out to fight, and yet,’ Henry added with a raised finger ‘God still favoured my banner. I paid penance for Becket’s death, and my reward, was your internment.’
William made to say something, but closed his mouth as his will began to falter. Uneasily, William felt that Henry had detected this lapse in his courage.
‘I can speak to you as I can speak to no other,’ Henry said candidly ‘for we both share the same God given burden we have been bestowed with.’
‘The strength and weakness of any King is what flows in our veins; our bloodline.’ To emphasis his point, Henry extended his arm out, his fist clenched as he showed his vambrace.
Nodding at Henry, William listened as Henry continued.
‘My sons will be brought to heel, I’m certain. Once they’ve accepted the situation, they will resume their royal duties, and my successor will take my place when I’m dead. But,’
Henry leaned forward, his hands on the back of the chair ‘can the same be said for you?’
Is there any use denying the truth? William thought to himself, knowing he was the last living man in his family, Scotland’s future only one blade stroke away from damnation.
‘You ask the impossible.’ William said, answering the unspoken question Henry had not asked yet.
‘My armies have already occupied the castles at Berwick, Jedburgh, Roxburgh, Sterling, and Edinburgh. Soldiers don’t live on fresh air and goodwill, so while you wallow in your cell, my men have helped themselves to whatever is close for them to take, and all the while, your people pay the privilege by paying taxes I’ve imposed on those lands.’
‘Then what do you want from me?’ William said, his confidence edging out of its shell of humiliation.
‘I’ll remind you of your current position,’ Henry said, hearing the misguided confidence in his adversary’s voice ‘your Kingdom is on the verge of being conquered, and without a King, it has no one to claim the throne once you’re gone.’
Henry turned from William, beginning to pace the room with his hands behind his back, walking between the table and the door he came out from as he spoke to William.
‘This exchange has already taking too much time from me, so I’ll get straight to the point.’
‘You will forfeit your claim on the Earldom of Northumbria and Huntingdon. You, and your nobles and clergymen, will submit to me and my Kingdom; swearing fealty and acknowledging me as your superior, paying homage to me as your lord King, and you becoming my liege lord.’
William, a warrior, a man who was a king in his country, a knight who faced down his would-be captors with valour and lance in hand, sat as he heard Henry read out aloud his terms, trying to control his rising choler.
‘Hereafter, the Church of Scotland will take its lead from the Church of England. You will not marry or fight without my royal seal of approval. The castles I have already taken will remain in my possession, and you, as liege lord, will raise taxes to pay for the soldiers that are garrisoned in them.’
‘In addition, before any release can be made, you will assign to me twenty noblemen as hostages, one of which will be your brother Duncan and Earl Waldeve…’
William briefly stopped hearing the King speaking to him, feeling himself become detached from the events in that room. Hearing a thud, William saw the guard had returned, with a longsword held in his hands. The pommel was outstretched to Henry, who turned away and looked at William.
‘Now,’ Henry said ‘once you have agreed to these terms, a rider will be sent to start the process of collecting the hostages, and once assembled, you will be free to return to Scotland. But,’
Henry leaned onto the table, looking at William inches away from the King of Scotland ‘should you try to raise another attempt to invade my Kingdom, or fail to answer my summons for when the treaty is signed, by God’s right, I will end your line, and make Scotland dominion unto my personal possession.’
William nodded his head, unable to find the words to fight against this catastrophe unfolding, the words of his advisors a year ago echoing in his head on not to attack England.
‘Take this sword,’ Henry said, indicating the guard to move towards William ‘and this will bind you to me to the terms I’ve just said, and forever, you will be my liege lord, and Scotland a vassal to England.’
With reluctance, seeing the end of his family die in that room, William took the sword and placed it on the table, the treaty undertaken.
Nodding to the guard, Henry watched as the soldier went to carry out his order of sending a rider to his trusted men in England, for the hostages.
‘Now if you pardon my leave Your Majesty, I have a war to win.’ Said Henry, leaving.
The End
The King waited. Only he wasn't a King. He stood proudly, with guards to either side of him and behind, only they weren’t there for his protection. They’ve taken his sword, his armour, removed him from the very island he was born on, and endured five months of squalor in captivity, but he was alive, and his pride might survive as well.
The door opens, and enters a King, only this one wasn’t a pretender like him, the guards answerable to the one who has entered the room; the power he wields over the imprisoned King immense, the ability to end him and his line with one breath being his.
But he doesn’t, looking indifferently at his captive as he comes closer, fully dressed in his suit of armour, perhaps done to mock the King who was caught in battle.
‘Your Majesty.’ Said the prisoner, with no airs attached to it.
Standing in front of his captive, with only the table in between them, the King stood as he looked at his prisoner.
‘Take a seat, Your Majesty.’ He said to his prisoner, a smile creeping onto his face.
Pulling his seat out, the guard next to the prisoner sat his charge down. Pulling out his, the King raised his hand and said ‘I’ll stand.’
The guard pushed the chair back into place and moved back behind the King.
‘William the first of Scotland, brother of Malcolm the fourth, and son of Henry; heir apparent of the Kingdom of Scot-, of Alba.’ Said the King as he looked down, his captive returning the glare.
‘Henry the second the King of England, Lord of Ireland, the Duke of Normandy, of Aquitaine, Count of Anjou, Maine, Nantes, and murderer of Thomas Becket.’ William said as he looked up at Henry, who nodded his head.
‘Now that introductions have been observed, we could perhaps proceed with the terms of your release?’ Henry said, placing his gauntlet hands on the back of his seat.
‘After five months at Falaise in Norman luxury, I almost thought you forgot about me?’ William said.
‘Yes,’ Henry said, almost to himself as he became lost in his own thoughts, before resuming his focus on William ‘My duties have kept me from coming sooner, with war across my empire against enemies from both within and without, though, not as much from the north of England.’
A silence grew after what Henry said, William declining to look at his captor in the eyes. Turning to address the guard behind him, Henry said ‘bring me the sword.’ Bowing, the guard left the room before closing the door behind him.
‘Am I to be executed?’ William said sternly, looking at Henry with grimace.
‘No, you are not to be executed,’ Henry said ‘but I can’t allow you to leave until you’ve agreed to my terms.’
‘I decline your terms!’ William said defiantly, leaning on the table towards Henry, who stood immobile at his outburst. Only the guards flinched, their hands on their weapons.
‘Fiery to the last, William,’ Henry said ‘your strength and your weakness. It took you into my lands, laid siege to my castles, and finally, got you captured and brought here.’
‘But you weren’t alone in your machinations? It took the rebellion of my three sons, my wife, the lords and barons of my Kingdom, and the King of France to bring you out to fight, and yet,’ Henry added with a raised finger ‘God still favoured my banner. I paid penance for Becket’s death, and my reward, was your internment.’
William made to say something, but closed his mouth as his will began to falter. Uneasily, William felt that Henry had detected this lapse in his courage.
‘I can speak to you as I can speak to no other,’ Henry said candidly ‘for we both share the same God given burden we have been bestowed with.’
‘The strength and weakness of any King is what flows in our veins; our bloodline.’ To emphasis his point, Henry extended his arm out, his fist clenched as he showed his vambrace.
Nodding at Henry, William listened as Henry continued.
‘My sons will be brought to heel, I’m certain. Once they’ve accepted the situation, they will resume their royal duties, and my successor will take my place when I’m dead. But,’
Henry leaned forward, his hands on the back of the chair ‘can the same be said for you?’
Is there any use denying the truth? William thought to himself, knowing he was the last living man in his family, Scotland’s future only one blade stroke away from damnation.
‘You ask the impossible.’ William said, answering the unspoken question Henry had not asked yet.
‘My armies have already occupied the castles at Berwick, Jedburgh, Roxburgh, Sterling, and Edinburgh. Soldiers don’t live on fresh air and goodwill, so while you wallow in your cell, my men have helped themselves to whatever is close for them to take, and all the while, your people pay the privilege by paying taxes I’ve imposed on those lands.’
‘Then what do you want from me?’ William said, his confidence edging out of its shell of humiliation.
‘I’ll remind you of your current position,’ Henry said, hearing the misguided confidence in his adversary’s voice ‘your Kingdom is on the verge of being conquered, and without a King, it has no one to claim the throne once you’re gone.’
Henry turned from William, beginning to pace the room with his hands behind his back, walking between the table and the door he came out from as he spoke to William.
‘This exchange has already taking too much time from me, so I’ll get straight to the point.’
‘You will forfeit your claim on the Earldom of Northumbria and Huntingdon. You, and your nobles and clergymen, will submit to me and my Kingdom; swearing fealty and acknowledging me as your superior, paying homage to me as your lord King, and you becoming my liege lord.’
William, a warrior, a man who was a king in his country, a knight who faced down his would-be captors with valour and lance in hand, sat as he heard Henry read out aloud his terms, trying to control his rising choler.
‘Hereafter, the Church of Scotland will take its lead from the Church of England. You will not marry or fight without my royal seal of approval. The castles I have already taken will remain in my possession, and you, as liege lord, will raise taxes to pay for the soldiers that are garrisoned in them.’
‘In addition, before any release can be made, you will assign to me twenty noblemen as hostages, one of which will be your brother Duncan and Earl Waldeve…’
William briefly stopped hearing the King speaking to him, feeling himself become detached from the events in that room. Hearing a thud, William saw the guard had returned, with a longsword held in his hands. The pommel was outstretched to Henry, who turned away and looked at William.
‘Now,’ Henry said ‘once you have agreed to these terms, a rider will be sent to start the process of collecting the hostages, and once assembled, you will be free to return to Scotland. But,’
Henry leaned onto the table, looking at William inches away from the King of Scotland ‘should you try to raise another attempt to invade my Kingdom, or fail to answer my summons for when the treaty is signed, by God’s right, I will end your line, and make Scotland dominion unto my personal possession.’
William nodded his head, unable to find the words to fight against this catastrophe unfolding, the words of his advisors a year ago echoing in his head on not to attack England.
‘Take this sword,’ Henry said, indicating the guard to move towards William ‘and this will bind you to me to the terms I’ve just said, and forever, you will be my liege lord, and Scotland a vassal to England.’
With reluctance, seeing the end of his family die in that room, William took the sword and placed it on the table, the treaty undertaken.
Nodding to the guard, Henry watched as the soldier went to carry out his order of sending a rider to his trusted men in England, for the hostages.
‘Now if you pardon my leave Your Majesty, I have a war to win.’ Said Henry, leaving.
The End