VESTIGES OF VALOR
A Medieval Romance
By Kathryn Le Veque
PROLOGUE
November, Year of Our Lord 1170 A.D.
Bures Castle
Normandy, France
Aknight withdark red hair barely ducked in time to be missed by a flying cup.
But not just any cup. It was heavy and well-made, pewter, because it was the cup of the king. A man descended from kings, queens, and conquerors, a cup belonging to Henry Curtmantle, also known as Henry II of England. A short, stocky man of legendary stubbornness and legendary temper, as he was currently displaying.
Zing!
Another cup went flying and Henry’s advisors were simply trying to stay out of the way. His personal guard, the knights who both protected and served him, were also trying to stay clear of the king’s rage but in the solar of the king in the keep of Bures Castle, there wasn’t much room to move around. It was a cluttered room, with rushes and furs on the floor, tapestries on the walls, and rather cramped for so many men. Therefore,it was much like a shooting gallery when Henry began to hurl things.
It had happened before.
“My lord, what can we do?” the Earl of East Anglia, Tevin du Reims, was the only man not trying to protect himself. He was an older man, massively built, with his long hair tied off at the nape of his neck. He controlled most of Norfolk and Suffolk. “Surely you knew that Canterbury would respond when he discovered York had crowned Young Henry. In fact, you and I discussed this very scenario. You should not be surprised.”
Henry looked at du Reims, a man he trusted almost more than anyone else. “Nay, I am not surprised,” he hissed, pounding his right fist into the palm of his hand. “But he has excommunicated L’Évêque!”
“I know.”
“This move nullifies my son’s coronation!”
Du Reims sighed faintly. “It does not matter in the grand scheme of your world,” he said calmly, hoping Henry would stop throwing those heavy cups. He’d already clipped one of his clerks and the man had a bloodied eye because of it. “Henry’s time will come and he shall be coronated before God and the church to rule in your stead. Canterbury will not have the last word on this; you know that. The best thing you can do now is simply ignore him.”
“I willnotignore him!”
“If you do not, then you will give him what he wants– a reaction. Canterbury expects you to react to this and then he will condemn you for it.”
Henry knew that, but he was so angry that it was difficult for him to focus. His once good and dear friend, Thomas Becket, had thwarted him in yet another situation in a long line of situations that had been happening since Becket had been appointed to the position as the Archbishop of Canterbury.When the former archbishop died, Henry had moved swiftly to fill the position with a man who had formerly held the position of his chancellor. He had been certain that his old friend, Thomas, would side with him on all matters, giving him control over the church. That had been the hope, anyway.
Instead, Becket had opposed Henry on nearly everything.
Henry saw his mistake now; putting Becket in charge of the church had turned the man power-hungry. He now competed against Henry for control of the entire country and Henry, a stubborn and abrasive man, raged at Becket regularly. This latest incident– the coronation of Henry’s heir by the Archbishop of York, Roger de Pont L’Évêque– had not only been condemned by Canterbury, as such a thing was historically his right, but Canterbury then went ahead and excommunicated York because of it.
The vindictiveness of a man who felt he was within his rights.
Truthfully, rage didn’t quite encompass what Henry was feeling. It was the last straw as far as he was concerned and everyone in the room could sense that. Not only were the advisors and the knights on edge, waiting for the next object to go flying, but the dogs were huddled under the table, sensing the tension in the room. But it was more than tension and more than fury.
It was the desperation of a man pushed beyond his limits.
“Damn him,” Henry finally hissed, turning away from du Reims because the man made sense and, at the moment, he didn’t want any sense. He wanted satisfaction. “He has gone too far. I will not let this go unanswered.”
Du Reims realized his advice for calm would go unheeded. “Then what would you have us do?”
Henry wasn’t so sure what, exactly, he wanted done. All he knew was that he needed an end to his problem. “Why do you ask such questions, Tevin?” he said. Then, he threw his hands upas if clawing at the sky. “It isnota question to be asked. It is an action to take on behalf of your king. For the love of God,whowill rid me of this troublesome priest?”
It was a forceful shout that reverberated from the very stone walls of the solar. A few of the dogs even bolted out from beneath the table, running from the room. As du Reims endeavored to calm the irate king, the last eight words spoken by Henry seemed to reverberate most of all. Unlike most words, disappearing with the breath they were spoken upon, these words had substance.
They had merit.
