#Henry fitzempress

[henryfitzempress]

Moodboard: Henry II, King of England (1154-1189).

[bibliophilicstranger]

Empress Matilda must have been fearsome. I love that a) she always demanded to be known as Empress, even after her first husband died and b) her son Henry (later Henry II) went by Henry Fitzempress (Henry son of the empress).

"Scholars have offered a number of explanations for why Matilda chose to style herself as domina Anglorum [Lady of the English]. It has been suggested that she might have balked at usage of the term regina, which, translated into the Anglo-Saxon English cwen, implied the wife of a king. The title queen, then, carried with it representational difficulties, as it was the office of king, not queen, that Matilda was seeking. In contrast, the term domina, or hlaefdige in Anglo-Saxon (lady in modern usage), was used to describe a woman exercising political and military power, such as the ninth-century Mercian queen Aethelflaed. As some scholars have suggested, Matilda’s use of the term domina may be related to a wider European usage, as dominus, or lord, described any number of public roles and offices men such as kings performed. Yet another explanation is the convention of kings elected but not yet crowned using the title dominus during the interregnum before their coronation. The title domina Anglorum undoubtedly drew from a number of meanings present in twelfth-century Anglo-Norman society, but all described a woman exercising power. As the Lady of the English, Matilda advertised herself as an individual woman capable of possessing and wielding regal power."

-Charles Beem, "Empress Matilda and Female Lordship", The Lioness Roared: The Problems of Female Rule in English History"

[mononijikayu]

the fitzempress sons and the velaryon boys

the term fitzempress was born from the fact that empress matilda, in her first marriage, was made empress of the holy roman empire. she never let go of that title even in remarriage - due to her husband being a mere count. she passed this sense of importance to her three sons. her sons had multiple names and monikers but the title fitzempress stuck the longest, especially with henry ii's two younger brothers. the name is deeply close to henry ii as it is his mother who he proudly descended from to inherit the throne of england.

the term velaryon boys was used to refer to the sons of rhaenyra targaryen and laenor velaryon. through their royal and noble parents, they are the known heirs to house targaryen and house velaryon. however, when their mother rhaenyra ascends to the throne - their eldest son, jacaerys velaryon would change his last name to targaryen, to continue the royal line. while lucerys velaryon would be the one to inherit driftmark and continue house velaryon. the youngest of the three sons, joffrey velaryon would also retain the velaryon name.

jacaerys velaryon - henry fitzempress, henry ii.

jacaerys's character is heavily influenced by who henry ii, eldest son of matilda, was. henry ii was the most intelligent and dutiful of matilda's sons. he had been a educated by great tutors in his mother's household. his father sent him to his uncle robert of gloucester to have his education in england. there, he was raised with canons of the church who were all prolific academics at the time. he got the best education that is fit for a son of the empress, a future king of england. 

he understood many languages but spoke latin and french. he was energetic and zealous and was athletic and liked hunting as a young man. he was also stubborn and strident. from a young age involved in the running of their family's endeavours, taught how to run his father's lands. he was also known to be someone who was fair, he raised people above their station based on merit rather than by station and was also very concerned for the common folk, having emptied his own private stores to aid his people during a famine in 1176.

jacaerys velaryon is the same. he was educated on dragonstone by his mother, where he grew up. he was considerably known to be robust young boy, who was also known to be quite fair in looks. as his mother's royal heir, we know that he would have been educated well as a prince of the realm with trusted maesters and educators his mother would have been able to find. 

we do see in the show, where jacaerys is learning high valyrian - he determined to get everything right. and was stubborn and stern in the show. it is also to be known that in the books, jacaerys was well adept at using arms, becoming a prolific squire at his young age.jacaerys was responsible and bold, he was considered savy at his politics and was one to not care about the station of others. he himself was the person who led the venture for dragonseeds, whom all came from various backgrounds. he also led the family throughout the war.

henry ii and jacaerys were heavily influenced by their ancestral descendency. henry ii wanted to rebuild the kingdom his grandfather worked to hold together. we see that in the show elaborated on, where jacaerys declares he should learn in order to bring honor to his ancestors. both of them were married or was to marry women of great beauty, strength and power. henry married eleanor of aquitaine, who held the duchy of aquitane in her own right and ruled with him. jacaerys was set to wed baela targaryen, who was to be his queen and dragonrider like him. lucerys velaryon - william fitzempress

william fitzempress was born the third son of empress matilda and geoffrey of anjou. william as a third son was never really set to inherit anything but he's considered a smart young man and was martially inclined, reading tactics often.he was studied tactics like that of roman military theorist vegetius and used that against his elder brother geoffrey when he occupied one of their family's castles. as he was the brother who shared similarities to his brother and because he most loyal, henry ii favoured him. at one point, henry ii had a council convened to propose the invasion of ireland - where he planned to make him king. but their mother opposed, as she thinks it is not worth conquering.

william fitzempress was born the third son of empress matilda and geoffrey of anjou. william as a third son was never really set to inherit anything but he's considered a smart young man and was martially inclined, reading tactics often.he was studied tactics like that of roman military theorist vegetius and used that against his elder brother geoffrey when he occupied one of their family's castles. as he was the brother who shared similarities to his brother and because he most loyal, henry ii favoured him. at one point, henry ii had a council convened to propose the invasion of ireland - where he planned to make him king. but their mother opposed, as she thinks it is not worth conquering.

 instead, henry ii made up to his brother by giving him land, wealth and titles. when he was in his mid 20s, he was set to wed isabel de warenne, countess of surrey who was a rich heiress. however their marriage required a dispensation due to their close affinity. thomas becket, who was archbishop of canterbury refused to help - he and king were at odds.unfortunately, william died suddenly - they said of a broken heart at the age of 27. henry ii was distraught at his brother's death and blamed becket- furthering conflict. when becket wss murdered by knights under henry ii's employ, they screamed of vengence for william's death.

lucerys velaryon was the second son of rhaenyra targaryen and laenor velaryon. unlike william, laenor and his father made lucerys heir to driftmark at his birth. lucerys was just as robust like his elder brother lucerys whom he was close with which we saw elaborated on the show. as elaborated on by the show, lucerys is warm hearted and kind. just as william proved, lucerys is loyal to his family to a fault even against other kin. like william, 

he also is for his martial skills being known for being adept at using arms just like his elder brother. lucerys in the show was someone who shunned power, but did his duty. just like william, he knew his duty and his place was to support henry ii's rule as king - lucerys made sure to support his own mother queen rhaenyra during the dance of the dragons as a dragonrider and envoy. like william, lucerys velaryon suddenly died young after his uncle aemond killed him and his dragon arrax over the skies of storm's end. his death just like william's, lead to the deepening of horrors to come. and just like william, lucerys  velaryon's death was avenged brutally.

joffrey velaryon - geoffrey fitzempress, count of nantes

geoffrey fitzempress was born the second son of empress matilda and geoffrey of anjou. he was named in honor of his father during the war as his mother was off in england, defending her claim to the throne. as he grew up with his father, it was the count of anjou who chose how his son was to be raised however we know little of what went through on in geoffrey's life at this time due to lack of records. still, when his father passed, it was thought that he was his father's heir. being a second son, this meant that should his elder brother claim normandy or england, anjou would be ceded to geoffrey.

however his brother henry ii did not cede the lands to his brother and instead, when he turned 16, young geoffrey became count of nantes. geoffrey considerably was eager to prove himself as powerful and worthy. he often did this by making plots. he would occupy castles and force his brothers to siege them. he also tried to plot to get eleanor of aquitaine to wed him however that failed completely. geoffrey however always made up with his family quite often, even escorting his brother henry ii and his newly wedded wife eleanor back to england around the same time. he continued to try and prove himself and fought his brothers - ending up dying young suddenly aged 24.

joffrey velaryon was born to rhaenyra targaryen and laenor velaryon as their third and last son. just like geoffrey, the youngest son was named to honor someone. in joff’s case, it was his father's departed lover and friend, joffrey lanmouth. just like his elder brothers, joff was also born robust of body. like his historical counterpart, we know very little about how he grew up after the incident in driftmark, both book and show. however we know that joffrey is a loyal and honest boy, having fought off his uncle aemond from claiming vhagar during his father's funeral. that being said, unlike his historical counterpart, joffrey velaryon was a third son. however, both are certainly in the same predicament, which is that their position as a member of their family is yet to be determined. 

however joffrey was eager to do well and prove himself worthy of being his mother's son just like geoffrey. the difference however is their approach towards it. while geoffrey favored trying to fight his family to attain glory, joffrey velaryon was resolute to prove himself by fighting for his family and ensuring that he contributes to their family's success in the war - in order to make his mother queen and avenge his departed family. however just like geoffrey, the youngest velaryon son was destined to die young. while we do not know how geoffrey fitzempress died, he did not perhaps die so miserably and horribly like joffrey did. but unlike geoffrey, joffrey velaryon died trying to serve his family.

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

I have seen a post comparing Steven's adoption of Henry II in the anarchy with what the Velaryons did with the Strong boys wanting to justify that their claim is legitimate, but in my humble opinion it is not comparable at all. This situation could be extrapolated to Aegon II having adopted his nephew Aegon (that was the LEGITIMATE son of his political rival) having himself a living son, in addition everyone would know that he is not his son and well in this case it would not be applicable but the adopted heir retains his family name...This is not what happens with the Strong boys, It has nothing to do with the modern concept of adoption that they want to apply. I don't understand why it's so hard for them to accept that these guys had no real claim to the throne. They can continue enjoying their characters accepting that they are bastards in every sense of the word. Do you think they are comparable situations?

I haven't seen this argument myself but clearly those are two completely different situations. Stephen didn't adopt Henry II, he made him his heir as a compromise to end to the civil war. And yes, the clear parallel would Aegon II naming Aegon III his heir over Jaehaerys and Maelor, had they survived. Again, this was part of a peace treaty. Everyone knew who Henry II's parents were, and there was no question of his not being trueborn. Henry II was still Count of Anjou, the title he inherited through his father, and styled himself Henry FitzEmpress in honor of his mother.

To understand why this happened, we need to look at some context. Henry II was only 20 when he decided to re-take his mother's throne, and Stephen was past 60. At that point England had been at war off and on for the better part of 15 years and both the clergy and the lords were unenthusiastic about continuing and forced Henry and Stephen to the peace table after Henry made some early gains in his campaign. Stephen respected Henry, and Stephen's own sons were kind of uninspiring as future kings go. Eustace, the older son and main obstacle, died before Stephen did, and the younger son, William, agreed to renounce his claim. Stephen never really took the throne due to strong personal ambition in the first place, but because he was persuaded by people close to him that Matilda would be a poor choice for queen, both due to her being a woman and due to the influence of her husband, Geoffrey of Anjou, who was pretty well hated in England. Leaving the throne to his children did not seem to be a major consideration for him when all was said and done. Conceding heirship to Henry II meant that the fighting could come to an end, and the country would be in capable hands, but Stephen himself would not face the humiliation and possible consequences of being outright deposed. As it turned out, Stephen died not even a year later, so Henry II took the throne sooner than expected.

Rhaenyra's Strong children are bastards that she's trying to put into the line of succession while claiming they are trueborn. They were not "adopted" by the Velaryons. The medieval world did not have a concept of adoption like we do in the modern world (Rome did, but not medieval Europe). The reason why it is treason to call them bastards is because what Rhaenyra is doing is illegal, and Viserys, Corlys, and Laenor are shielding her from the consequences. I wrote a post here about the whole idea that Rhaenyra's children are not legally bastards, but I have to admit comparing them to Henry II becoming heir after Stephen is a new one!

[247reader]

It’s October - and that means it’s Awesome Ladies of History, Year Four! I’ll be bringing you 31 of history’s most interesting women, from the iconic to the forgotten, starting off, as per usual, with a figure from the iconic side.

Time for Eleanor of Aquitaine!

Eleanor was the elder surviving daughter of William X, Duke of Aquitaine, the most powerful vassal in 12th century France, a man who controlled far more land than his nominal overlord. Eleanor’s name, Aliénor, or “other Aenor,” referred her her mother, who died when Eleanor was a small child; her father likewise passed when she was twelve or thirteen, leaving her Duchess of Aquitaine in her own right. Duke William’s will made Eleanor a ward of King Louis VI, who bethrothed her to his heir, another Louis, and then promptly died himself, leaving the two teenagers as king and queen of France. Young Louis initially adored Eleanor, but the monkish king and high spirited duchess were ill-suited. Eleanor, to the horror of church authorities, accompanied her husband on the Second Crusade, but the campaign was a disaster, and their already-shaky marriage disentegrated along route, despite the Pope himself attempting to mediate. With two daughters and no prospect of a son, Louis and Eleanor managed to arrange an annulment… and Eleanor promptly married again, to Louis’s rival Henry FitzEmpress, soon Henry II of England. Initially, this marriage was, though not without turbulence, a happier one. Eleanor and Henry had eight children, including five sons, one of whom died young, and Eleanor, despite later legends, seems to have accepted his affairs with the equanimity of someone whose maternal grandmother eloped with her paternal grandfather. He trusted her enough to eventually allow her to rule her duchy in person on his behalf… trust that proved misplaced. When their sons, including her favorite, Richard, revolted against their father, it was with Eleanor’s support, and it was Eleanor who faced the consequences; Henry imprisoned her for the rest of his reign.

Richard’s accession, however, set her free - and also made her perhaps the most powerful queen mother in English history. She arranged his marriage to Berengaria of Navarre, held his continental lands together during his prolonged absences, and raised his ransom when he was kidnapped returning from the Third Crusade. His death in 1199 devastated her, and her relationship with her youngest son, King John, was more fractious. She took the vows at the nunnery of Fontrevault, and died there soon after, already a legend in her own time.

[liviasdrusillas]

“On 5 March 1133, Matilda gave birth— to her immense relief— to a healthy son…Any mother might be proud of her newborn but for her, there was the added weight of all that he represented. His birth wiped out the humiliation of her having been considered barren, of not having borne the emperor a son; and it strengthened her position as her father’s heir. She wept for joy at his baptism (the only time she is ever reported as shedding tears in public), and Henry would be her favorite child all her life. And he would take his sobriquet from neither father nor grandfather but from his mother: by his own choice he was known later throughout all his lands as Henry fitzEmpress.”

- Matilda: Empress, Warrior, Queen by Catherine Hanley

[greenerteacups]

I just realized something. Neil MCDONALD is the son of Mary MCDONALD (who had that name while in school, so it’s not her married name). Susan BONES is related to Amelia BONES on her mum’s side. Does this mean that in the Wizarding World it’s just as common for kids to bear their mum’s surname? Or there are other reasons? (Mary is married to a woman and they liked McDonald better, Susan’s dad decided to take his wife’s name, etc…)

Yes! So I wouldn't say it's common, but I know a couple of people IRL who have taken their mother's surname, and I think Mary Macdonald would be one of those people. (Admittedly, part of this is me as-self-indulgent-author wanting to wedge in a Marauders-Era cameo — for Neil to be recognized as Mary's son, I felt like I had to tie them together, since having McGonagall just announce that Neil's mom is Mary in Ch48 seemed a little ham-fisted. But I also think it's in-character for Mary to want her son named after her, regardless of whom she's married to.)

Susan Bones is a bit of a different story. I didn't initially know what to do with Susan's family tree, because in canon, it's said that the Bones are all dead — Hagrid tells Harry in Philosopher's Stone that Voldemort killed off "the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts." Which implies that the same thing happened to all of them, right? And there are no more Prewetts or McKinnons, so it would make sense to assume the same thing about the Bones — except there are at least two Bones in the story. So I interpreted that as meaning those families are dead in the male line, and Susan was named for her mother's family because they wanted to continue the tradition (and maybe tie in her famous aunt/wizarding ancestry; I can totally see mixed-blood families using the wizarding surname, regardless of gender, in order to give their kids an easier time of it.) In that reading, Hagrid's line just means he's not aware that Susan took her mother's name, which makes sense, because at that point he doesn't even know Susan exists.

I think purebloods stick more rigidly to patriarchal nomenclature — Draco is a Malfoy, for instance, even though the Blacks are arguably the more powerful family; interestingly, in the really old days of nobility, men would sometimes take their mother's surname if she was more powerful than their father, especially if she was of the blood royal (as with Henry FitzEmpress and  Robert FitzWimarc). But by the twentieth century, I can't see that happening unless the identity of the father is in doubt. So Neil and Susan are just two of those cases where families decide to do their own thing.

[sourcreammachine]

correct! John Lackland was so-named because as the youngest legitimate child of his father Henry FitzEmpress he was not expected to inherit any land. however, after all his brothers died without legitimate heirs (with one nephew possibly being murdered by Lackland), he took the throne of the angevin empire with the death of his brother Richard Lionheart - and all royal land that came with it

he did, however, never own a New Nintendo 2DS XL, despite its sleek design, competitive price, and nipple

HISTORY QUIZ!

[emmaofnormandy]

❁  « 𝔐𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔦𝔯𝔰 𝔬𝔣 ℜ𝔬𝔰𝔞𝔪𝔲𝔫𝔡 ℭ𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔡 »  ❁

Godstow Nunnery, Oxford. Winter, 1176.

There has been talk, as there has always been. There has always been malicious glance of all parts as if those who casted their judgemental looks were saints themselves. As if taking their veils proved them holy.

It mattered little now than before, as if gossip and hypocrisy once troubled the peace of her spirits. She had more concerns to be preoccupied to, one of which was her own health. On that particular morning, she was unwell. Not /that/ particular morning, but every day ever since the headaches began to flow to her body somehow. 

They blame my poor health for my sins.

She remembered the mater superior scowling at her. She should have been more humble, take the cross Christ put on her shoulders not because she loved dearly with all her heart, but because she was a harlot in everyone else’s eyes. In truth, was she? 

Love is a sin, you ought to repent for it.

Rosamund could hear Henry’s laughters. Hal, as she used to call him, would have tell her to pay no mind to those old cows. The idea, even now, brought a small smile on her lips. But the shadow of a smile, the shadow of what once was Rosamund, was there no more. She had to repent silently and would embrace death alone. She remembered the days where the local bishops came to scowl at her for her “nature”. Some of his enemies, within the church, would come at present to insult her. She had no friends, if one at all she could name such. Even then, Rosamund had no reason to regret. 

I would have done all the same if I were given the same opportunity.

Bitterly, she swallowed the tears that wanted to drop her eyes. Rosamund sighed. When looking at the walls where she was staying, still in bed, the walls made of stone were naked before her eyes, barely baring a poor cross. There was only one simple table and one simple chair, a view to the outdoors on the left through a dusty window. There were no courtins, there was nothing. But even there, Rosamund saw through the window, contemplating the clouds that were trumbling against one another in a sign of upcoming storm. Green hills with nothing but pasture and cows. Small houses and far beyond her reach she knew there were small folk doing their tasks for the priory where she was in.

If Henry saw this now, he would have surely scowled at this condition. But I don’t think he understood how little mattered the lands, the greatness, the richness in comparison to the love that flew easily between us.

Death was close, she knew. Whatever the cause of the pestilence that hurt her lungs, she knew it would soon come to an end. 

How can love be a sin if all our Lord preached was love?

But it mattered not. She would cherish the memories to her heart. Rosamund coughed harder. It was cold, even though the door was closed and she had a simple blanket. She wanted it all to be as simple as it should befit her position. Most nuns would disdain her for it, but Rosamund never truly gave to other people’s opinions. She prayed now, though, for the comfort of her soul. She would not like to announce she was dying, it was vain and she had no interests whatsoever in troubling the mater superior. 

In the midst of unbearable cold and painful pestilence, Rosamund closed her eyes, now lost in the past. It was more colourful and lively than the present, and although it should be said that it was never wise to dwell in the past, to seek the comfort for her soul, it’s what the former Rose of the World just did.

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Rosamund was the youngest daughter of Walter de Clifford, a minor lord of the Welsh marches, and his wife Margaery, sometimes spelled Margaret. She had a couple of older siblings, but only Walter, Amicia and Lucia survived into adulthood. Rosamund remembered being closer the most Lucia, both in temper and age. 

She recollected they often liked to dress equally as children in order to confuse their mother. It was a happy childhood as one could have back then. The world of violence, pestilence and all other mundane things had not yet reached Castle Clifford, where she spent most of her days in between prayers and sewings. Sometimes, her father would receive a wanderer bard and welcome him into his hall.

The bard would sing stories of kings and queens, courts of love, chivalrous knights who were brave enough to stand for honour and bring justice in a lawless realm. His voice was so charming that Rosamund remembered Amicia sighing over him constantly. Her mother, a woman conscious of whom she descended (from a lineage of anglo-norman nobility), could be stern at times and would not hesitate in reprehending Amicia for her childish behaviour. But their father, Walter, would laugh and say:

“Let them be children, woman.”

“They are not peasants”, it was Margaery’s response. “They are damzels, ought to behave perfectly.”

But when they were not giggling, they were behaving perfectly. Of the sisters, however, Amicia would be the most temperamental. She, like the rest of the ladies, was born with flaming hair and light brown eyes. Rosamund remembered her laughters the most, but also the one who was prompted to mischiefs. The next one, Lucia, another redheaded lady, was not so outgoing. She certainly seemed to have had an inclination to the Church, but their father refused to send any to the church. He hoped to increase the family’s health through the marriages he was beginning to seek for his girls.

And then, there was Rosamund. Her oval face showed high, pink cheeks, rounded eyes coloured brown; her nose was long and her lips, full. Her hair was also painted with red. She was the quietest of the ladies and, to her father’s despair, another one with inclinations to a religious life.

“Nay, I say!” She remembered one night her father was yelling with their mother. “I shall not send any of my children to the church! I can afford their dowry, what makes you think otherwise to suggest such a thing?”

Nonetheless, Rosamund continued going to the chapel more than thrice a day. She felt peace within it, perhaps more so than in between walls made of stone with long corridors and displayers of wealth. She knew nothing about her own ancestrality, except there may had been one great-grandfather coming from Normandy to William, the duke who suddenly became King of England not so long ago.

But she found comfort in the long gardens, well looked after by Mistress Joan, taking a seat beneath the trees and read--surprisingly an hability she and her sisters had, taught by one tutor of the church their mother hired the services--a book of poems. Rosamund shared the spirit of romance with her older sister, and it was not rare, as they grew up, they spent time proclaim poems of the sort.

In one of these early days, when a lady of their mother accompanied the girls for a stroll, Amicia would promptly say:

“Rosa, Rosa, are you not aware of how your beauty makes a man drop on his knee pretty soon?”

Lucia giggled softly, but Rosamund could not comprehend entirely. They were now into womanhood, Rosamund being no more than 17 years of age. They had not so much contact with the men, even though in their region there were growing feast to which her family was, much to Sir Walter’s pride, invited. Rumour had it that the king himself would come soon, whomever this man may be.

“What, in God’s name, are you saying, sister?”

Amicia and Lucia exchanged amused glances. Rosamund felt irritated because young ladies who did not possess completely control over their own perceptions around them would surely be irritated by such provocation.

“Father has decided the three of us will marry soon enough, and together, so one feast can be held on behalf of us!” Amicia was explaining. “He must really love us for trying to get rid of us so soon! Mayhaps not soon enough, as I reach the nine-tenth year of my life, if mother’s count is correct, and I’m old to arrange a fanficul espouse. Well, as I was saying, in between the arrangements, he made a proposition to a baron who was feudal lord to the Prince of Gwynedd for making me his wife. Yet, the man claimed he would have preferred to despouse you instead of me!”

Rosamund immediatedly interrupted the movement of her feet. Pink coloured her cheeks and her eyes went wide.

“I... I never put my eyes on the man, sister!”

Amicia laughed at Rosamund’s simplicity. 

“I know you have not, but he seems to have done so. Whomever be your consort, my sister, you will make the man very happy indeed!”

Much to Rosamund’s consternation, the conversation turned to teasings that she particularly detested. She was timid when, in the rare events she went outdoors the castle whether to accompany her mother’s lady to the market or even more so to fanciful royal events her family began to attend, eyes were drawned to her figure. She hated it. It was probably due to her red locks, brighter than her sisters’s. But her mother would remember that this was a good thing, for she would not take long before arranging a suitable suitor. 

Rosamund did not know back then, but lady Margaery’s amusement remark would prove to be correct. It was not any suitable, proper suitor she would capture the heart, but the one of the king of England himself.

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The fatidic day likely occurred in a summer day, Rosamund could not be sure. The reason of why there would be a great feast for the Welsh lords was to receive the king in order to appeal his “conquest thirst” that he inherited of his great-grandfather, another conqueror. 

“You should go very well dressed”, said lady Margaery to her daughters as she and her own ladies brushed their hairs and picked the best silk gowns they afforded having. Rosamund would dress a blue one with white pearls around the long sleeves, her flaming hair locked in a long braid. Her sisters would dress green and yellow silk gowns, each one lurking for the opportunity of finding a proper husband that evening. “For all the important men will be there and it’s important, God knows how, you succeeded in capturing their hearts..”

“And gold”, remarked Lucia, making all of them laugh except their mother.

“Now, Lucia, don’t be silly, child. You are no more in this age to make jests. You are a lady now.”

But the giggles carried on effortlessly. Later, at another castle built of stones, Rosamund was just another lady in between the present nobility. The hall was well provided, she could see how great--certainly bigger than the castle she grew up--were the saloon, the decorations and well dressed were the knights in their armous, but forbidden to walk inside carrying their weapons.

There were musicians too, of course, a sweet melody mastered by the fingers of such men. Rosamund remembered the tune, how it brought a comfort feeling to her heart, and how it made her smile It was her first experience in such an event and she was, naturally, as excited as any other lady in her position would be.

In more cheerful spirits was Amicia, whose hair, divided in two combed braids, fell over her green gown. She looked everywhere and would spare no smile to any lord who threw curious glances at her.

“She will sure arrange a husband this day”, Rosamund whispered to Lucia, making her sister chuckle. “Father and mother will be back home in content spirits!”

In the meantime she settled with her sisters and her father and mother went on to greet other noblemen and their wives there present, one could hear the sudden excitement that arouse from the small amount of self-entitled-important men. The king, Rosamund was told, had arrived.

At first, she was curious to see who was this man. Lucia, the brightest of the sisters, explained:

“Henry the King is the second of his name to rule all over England. He is a powerful man, vain some would say and most temperamental. Those who witnessed it, claimed that it was an awful vision to behold.”

Rosamund was not impressed, though.

“Most kings must behave in such a manner, otherwise how else will they earn respect?”

Lucia shrugged her shoulders.

“But Arthur was not temperamental..”

Rosamund smirked.

“He is not here yet, Lucia, so we must await for his rise.”

Her sister ignored the comment and carried on. As she did, their eyes followed the multitude surrounding the king. Henry the king was tall, Rosamund noticed. His hair was red, although of a different shade than hers; his face was oval and it captured strong features. His eyes, however, mirrored the smile displayed on his lips, enhancing his charisma. 

“And he has quite some reputation with ladies, too. Have you not heard how he seduced the queen of France and took her as his wife?”

Rosamund’s eyes were following the king’s moves when, in this exact instance her sister was proving to be one with very attentive ears, Henry II’s gaze locked with hers. It was for a brief instance as she, paled at how intense and abrupt this encounter with each other’s eyes were, quickly looked away.

Unaware of what just happened, Lucia told Rosamund:

“Aliénor, the queen, was born in the duchy of Aquitaine. She was reported to be so beautiful and elegant, but most of all, rich because Aquitaine occupies large portions of lands in the continent.”

Rosamund rose her eyebrows:

“How on earth would you know all that?”

“Father has been receiving important people at the castle, in case you have not noticed and I’m always eager to know the stories of the court they brought.”

“And what is like this Aliénor? How did she become Henry’s queen?”

As Lucia was telling her the story, Rosamund was completely unapprehensive of Henry’s curiosity. She would not know how her red hair and soft features were a contrast amidst the other ladies with more olive skin and darker eyes than her own. She was unaware how Henry was completely intrigued by this mysterious lady whose eyes so innocent and filled with curiosity found his own. Another redhair, mayhaps, but it was not like anyone. 

One of Henry’s companions followed the king’s gaze and said:

“That is mistress Clifford, m’lord. A daughter of one of the minor lords of the Welsh marches. Her name is Rosamund, she’s the youngest of Sir Walter Clifford’s brood. She’s to be betrothed soon with her sisters...” He continued to proceed, almost nonchalantly about Rosamund and her family, but Henry was only partially listening.

“Would you bring the said lady to me?” Henry interrupted him.

It was lust at first, as often was. The man hesitated for seconds, but he eventually agreed to. Who could deny the overlord of Scotland, lord of Wales and king of all England anything at all?

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Rosamund was delighted to meet other ladies of her age. She had spent very little time outdoors and her only companions and friends she relied on were her sisters. That evening, her father and mother granted permission for them to enjoy freely as long they were under supervision of lady Margaery’s lady-in-waiting, a Welsh maid of the name Guinevere. So far, however, the only amongst the three sisters to have enjoyed more than the rules of good sense cared to permit in courtship was Amicia. 

Rosamund and her new friend, a lady named Heloise, were discussing poetry when mistress Guinevere were scowling at Amicia for her unproper behaviour. It was also when the king’s valet came in between them. 

He cleared his throat, and by how arrogance was stamped all over his face--which was not one very nice looking, in Rosamund’s opinion, marked by scars or old pestilences as a sign he struggled to survive infancy or mayhaps the favour of God in sparing him of such unfortunate death; his eyes were narrowed with impatience, and yet she could swear they were painted with the deepest shade of blue; the man’s nose was long, but it was crooked, a sign he was involved in unnecessary fighting or wars he was forced to fight, Rosamund could not be sure. His sandy hair was short and oily, and his cheeks were rosy. He wore dark robes that could easily mistake him to a priest. And yet, when coming to her and this new friend Heloise, the man looked as if he was mostly obliged for doing so, an interpretation that, as she would find out, was not entirely incorrect.

“Mademoiselles”, he began with a heavy French accent. Luckily for him, Rosamund could speak the language, but pretended she would not understand him. Maybe he understood it, for he, against his own will, was forced by circumnstances to speak the local tongue. “Mistress Clifford. His Grace, the king of England, wishes to see you.”

Lady Heloise covered her mouth with her tongues, but Rosamund, as flattered as she might have felt with the attention of such a king, was not entirely sure if she should meet a man let alone a king.

“For what purposes, my lord, would the king be interested in seeing me, a mere damsel?”

She could tell her lady friend was very much puzzled by her words, which, Rosamund thought, could be seen as a demonstrative arrogance, when in reality she was motivated by her pious education she received. Surely her mother would be very displeased if she heard of such a thing? Her flower should be preserved for her marriage. 

As naive as she may have been, Rosamund did not lack brain.

“Alas!” The king’s valet exclaimed, for this was the first time he found in such situation. Rarely would a lady, whomever she may be, question such a thing. “For what purposes? The king has taken a like of you, my lady. Should there ever be another reason for it?”

He laughed.

“’Tis the king of England we are talking about. Should we leave him wait for more than we already have?”

Rosamund flushed. She understood her position as an unmarried dame in those days, and because of it, remembering Henry II, as king as he may be, was still a man and a married one. She would not go against the laws of the Church.

“I may sound a fool to you, mister, but out of respect for the queen he is lawful married before God and for me, a damsel who has not yet become a respectful espouse to some lord, I cannot give in to such follyness.”

And without waiting for response, she stepped away, moving straight to the direction of mistress Guinevere with a very shocked lady Heloise by her side, stunned as she was what was seen for she said no word. Rosamund’s face was all red and one could easily tell how angered she was. 

“There you are, Rosa!”, said Guinevere, greeting the other’s friend. “I see you have acquainted yourself with other admirable ladies, but your face shows me displeasure. What, in God’s name, has been the cause of such distress?”

Lady Heloise, who payed no mind to discreetion, spoke for Rosamund:

“The king wanted to see her and she declined him!”

Guinevere and Rosamund’s sisters looked puzzled at her, whose pale pinks were painted with another shade of deeper red if possible. She could not meet their inquiring gazes, so her eyes were down to her feet.

“How did this happen?!” Amicia, naturally, was the first to say, quickly taking her sister’s hand into her own. “You should not decline, my dear Rosamund. Oh, how fair are you! God has a purpose for you, my sister, as I have always known! ‘Tis with what other reason for being born ever so graceful and fair as yourself?”

“My dear sister, do not say flatteries to me”, pledged Rosamund. “I am not a harlot, and cannot give into such reputation. He is a married man.”

“He is the king of England”, said Amicia, eagerly. “We could have benefited from it.”

Impatient, Rosamund, who realized she would not receive support from either mistress Guinevere, who looked astonished by the reports Lady Heloisa unashamed gave her, nor her sisters, who suddenly forgot all morals about involving oneself with a married man.

Silently, she slipped off their companionship and in even quieter frustration she moved to an empty are of the castle, wherever this may be. Perhaps the gardens? But she would not dare to go to such a darker spot. No, the hall would be nice. There were guards, one or two small groups engaged in conversations, so she sat at a far from the crowd bench where she sat. 

But there would be no time to contemplate alone with her own thoughts for Henry, king of England, was not one very accostumed to receive declines to the invites he extended to those he appreciated. He was rather intrigued by what cause had motivated her to deny him the pleasure of her company and his eyes never left her face or moves in this time. Even the group that surrounded him was aware his mind was out of reach.

Henry observed as Rosamund stomed over, face flushed probably the result of being offended. He began to wonder if that was because of him. By how her sisters behaved, or so he assumed being the ladies under the supervision of an older mistress, he presumed so. Discreetly, the king excused himself off the duties and began to search for her. Did not take long before he did.

“I pray I have not troubled the peace of your mind”, spoke he with a heavy French accent.

Rosamund pale, startled when hearing his voice. Her eyes went wide and she quickly dipsied to a curtsy when raising from her seat. But, seeing the fear in her eyes, Henry could tell where this refuse came from. He quickly said:

“Please, my lady, be fearful not of me. I came here to apologize.”

Rosamund’s features soften, although there remained in her eyes a mixture of amusement and suspicious.

“Apologize, my lord? For what cause would have the king to apologize?” “My lady, you mistake me to an arrogant and distant creature...”

“And are you not, sire? A king unreachable to many of us, your subjects?”

He sighed. But Henry was decided not to give in as much as Rosamund.

“I’m still the son of the Lord as much as you, madame Clifford. A crown placed over my head because of His command, solely so. I did not mean to offend you.”

Rosamund’s eyes remain locked with his, but her body languaged indicated she still distrusted him. 

“I... How can I think otherwise? I am a damsel, Your Grace, not a harlot you can share a bed anytime. I am unmarried, and what will people think if they see us engaging in conversation out of their sight like this?”

Henry took a seat on the bench she was formerly sat. She watched frustration, and maybe anger, rise in his features, but countered somehow by resignation in his eyes. Those eyes were painted in deep blue, and Rosamund thought it must like seeing the sea, for there was something in them that could drown her. A shiver came in and she quickly lowered her eyes to her feet. She could not... She could not...

“To the hell the men and their malicious minds. I came not to pervert your innocence, my lady. I see I did make the mistake in thinking you were like the others when you are not.”

“The path is free for you to go then, sire, for I will not give you what you came to seek”, she heard herself speaking.

When did I ever become this bold? And before a king?!

But Henry laughed. And his laughter sounded like a thunder, giving much cause for the raise of Rosamund’s gaze, for she was intrigued at how... human he sounded. He, so divine being, could truly be a man?

“You captivated me, my lady. May I not enjoy your company throughout this evening?”

“I fear to say there would have more interesting damsels to accompany your lordship, but if it pleases you, sire, I shall stay” she said, humbly.

Henry gave space for her to seat, patting it so she could seat. Rosamund, not any less uncomfortable than she was before, obeyed.

“It pleases me. But does it please you?” He inquired, his eyes looking for hers.

Rosamund flushed.

“I... I... Why would you ask this, sire? You are the king”, said she, softly.

“For this same reason you exposed, my lady Clifford. Because I am the king, people assume what do I want and desire, and for long years this was enough for me. But to live amidst the flattery and falsehood is becoming tiresome. It is as if I live in illusions, illusions that could never grasp the reality I aimed to live.” He explained.

Rosamund found herself surprised by his words. Somehow, she sensed the truth beneath them.

“How did you become king, sire? Looks like a heavy task to burden your lordship to.”

Henry shrugged his shoulders, but his eyes were no longer holding hers, staring, instead, into the void of what Rosamund presumed to have been the past, of years she never witnessed or heard of. 

“I have inherited my mother’s claim. You are not familiar with the whole thing, are you?” A smile crossed his lips when seeing Rosamund shaking her head in negative. Somehow it made his chest swollen with pride. “It all began from the day my uncle, my mother’s brother, was drowned. His ship hit a rock or something of the sort, and he tried to save the people that were in the same ship as his. By doing so, he died.”

“My condolences for his loss”, Rosamund whispered.

Henry smiled. It was a more sincere one, Rosamund observed.

“I appreciate it, but I fear to tell you that us, royals, display of little time to grief. My mother was his heir, her father, the first king named Henry of this realm, made his nobles to vow loyalty to her, but he should have known that men are like beasts. They switch their loyalties easily as gold”. He now spoke with a sudden bitter that intrigued Rosamund even more.

He carries his scars, his pain, his hurt and buries them beneath out of the general sight. Oh, how heavy must be to carry the crown over his head!

“He died and my mother should have been crowned, but she was pregnant at the time of his death, so that gave space for Stephen to usurp her rightful place as lady of the English. It was a civil conflict that, in the end, brought me here.”

Rosamund listened, and Henry was surprised for her genuine listening. Not even his wife would do such a thing, he noticed. 

“You sound unhappy for the events that led you here, sire, if I may speak freely.”

“You may speak freely as you wish, as I have said, it tires me to hear flattery most of the times.” He said. “I shall not be untrue to you, my lady, but I do enjoy being king. What abhorres me the most is their motivations, how easily convertible are their loyalties. In one day they welcome in feasts like these, in the other they are plotting against me.”

Rosamund listened again, unsure of what judgement should she give him, although she presumed he was being sincere. She never met too many men who would speak with their hearts, or any man who did so at all, but his eyes... when looking into her own... There was something unexplainable to her. Yet, she had to be realistic, as much as, surprisingly to her, it would be disappointing to taste the flavour of it when she said:

“But your wife, my lord... Surely she would support you as a queen should.”

Henry made a sound that Rosamund was not entirely sure what it is, by how his features changed all of a sudden, it looked like the queen did not make this king happy either.

“She does not. All she cares about is her court of love she tries to reproduce in Westminster.” Henry scowled. “Her vain courtiers doing all she pleases, her children...”

“Who are yours too”, she kindly reminded him.

“Well, she acts otherwise!” Henry said with gritted teeth.

Rosamund said nothing more, but instead allowed him to speak out the anger within. As far as she understood, one of the major issues with the queen was having his illegitimate children raised with their legitimate ones and favouring one son over another in all matters. There were the legacies involved too, a series of issues that, from her perspective, were faulted on both parts. Although she could not understand why a mother would favour one son over the other, which made her furrow her eyebrows.

This captured Henry’s eyes, for of all he told her, it was only in the matter of children that he received some reaction of her.

“What is it that is troubling you, my fair lady?”

Rosamund blushed at the compliment, but ignored it when responding him:

“Forgive me, sire, for I am not a mundane lady. I know little of this world, and understand even lesser the complications of motherhood. Whilst I comprehend what lies before me when marrying a lord, I cannot discern how a mother’s love surpasses all other children to concentrate in one alone.”

Henry smiled at her.

“Your remarks are far more intelligent than any other lady I have ever heard.”

“That is untrue, sir”, protested Rosamund, although a small smile curled upon her rosy lips. “For your lady wife is famed for doing good use of the brain she has.”

“Whilst this is accurate, I cannot say she has been using it on good matters.”

Rosamund smiled.

“What other matter could occupy a lady’s mind out of a lady’s own world? Hence why I cannot see the choice of one son over another.”

“Preferences”, it was all he said, vaguely so.

Seeing this was a subject he was not particularly into, Rosamund decided to quiet her thoughts. But Henry said:

“On what account have you stopped the conversation, my lady?”

“Sire, there is little reason to go into a topic that leaves you uncomfortable. I think we should divague on other matters.”

“Such as...?”

But their conversation came abruptly to an end. For the father of Rosamund, Sir Walter, apparently “finally” discovered the whereabouts of his youngest daughter. The scene, to his eyes, could hold no indecency of unproper behaviour, but, nonetheless, the reputation must be conserved. Yet, to the end of that day, Sir Walter could have not been any more proud than any other man would be in his shoes if his daughter had captured the powerful king’s heart.

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Henry the king was decided to spend more than one day or two in the states that were close to the Clifford’s family. His presence was an opportunity for the local nobility to receive him in rich and luxurious feasts, but also to the ambition Sir Walter who wished to expand and enrich his own family.

Rosamund, however, cared little about her family’s desire of enlarging the gold and properties. She was much surprised to see a different side of the king than she was told of. He was respectful, kind, even sentimental. But, at this, her mother warned her:

“Men in general have many masks, my dear child. The powerful they are, the more artful they can be to conquer a woman’s heart. You should know well what you are doing...”, and in a less severe manner, added she, “if you are not willing to this courtship, we can find a more urgent matter for you.”

But Rosamund was not entirely sure of what would be of her. So she said nothing of the matter. Her mind was confusing, whilst her heart was clear. It was not merely an attraction of minds, but of souls. The answer was there: she hoped to see him again even if this was wrong in so many ways.

***

Rosamund was discreet and there was no reason to behave otherwise, although if this was Amicia, perhaps everything else would have gone differently. But there she was, with a friend or two (lady Heloisa was amongst them, even if she wanted the gossip that Rosamund refused to give her) and her sister Lucia. The feast was charmed with the melodies that brought many men and women together in a dance.

Rosamund herself, on that day with the red locks loose and dressing a blue gown with esmeralds, danced with two of the King’s courtiers. She knew he was watching, his eyes glued on her moves as if he could see beyond her curves. For when their eyes met, it was a signal of recognition, of something more, one mirroring another’s soul, a feeling that could only be found in letters of the books, in the mouths of the bards, in the minds of the thinkers. 

She danced gleefully, the rhythm of her heart racing louder each time their eyes meet. She lowered her gaze, she timidly followed the tune with her partners, she laughed with her lady friends, but all the time she could not help... those eyes of her sought for his, and his were waiting for hers.

Discreetly, the king inquired after her. Discreetly, they met and strolled at the gardens. 

“You dance gracefully, I should say”, said he, sounding soft as words rolled out of his tongue. “I could not look away and must admit I was envious of your partners.”

Rosamund smiled and Henry decided he liked the way it naturally came everytime at his wording.

“I thought you disliked flatteries, sire.”

“I do, but must I protest that I speak the truth to you, dear lady! O, fair Rosamund, can you not see how the world’s eyes fall on thee?” 

She giggled, her fingers slipping on the arm the king had offered her to take, gripping it gently. The scent of roses that day already mesmerized him, completely taken by her presence.

“You are a poet too, sire?”

“I have one brother who is. I, myself, am mostly a warrior. One of the reckless kind”, he winked at her. “But he inspired me. William was a good man.” He sighed.

“Oh. Did he..?” She could not pronounce the words, unsure of how he would react.

“Aye.” Henry lamented, his eyes missing the joy of minutes before, as if stolen by the sadness of eternal grief. “This world was not for him, though. He must be in peace. He was very good, pure. Unlike Geoffrey.”

On that late afternoon, Rosamund was content in hearing about his brothers, his stories, and even of the illegitimate siblings Henry had. She was told of his children, of his life. 

“But I’m talking too much!” objected he, when they finally took a seat in the centre of the garden. Rosamund noticed they were now out of the people’s sight, especially the guards. “Will I not hear a word of my fair Rosamund?”

She giggled.

“Must I, sire? What could possibly interest the king of England? I am a damsel, daughter of a local nobleman.”

“Do not think of me as a king, my lady, I beg you”, said he, enamorated. “All I ask you is to speak freely to me. I would sincerely like to listen to what you have to say, your habits, what you like to do or not.”

Rosamund conceeded a smile.

“If you insist...”

“I do!”

She locked her hand into another, resting them on the top of her lap after adjusting the skirts of her gown. Rosamund would look down a few times, sensing the heat in her cheeks at how, not once, did the eyes of Henry divert from her presence. When she raised her gaze, he was still glancing at her. Not only glancing, but listening.

He was actually listening.

“I appreciate the simplicity”, she told him at last after telling the story of her family, her habits, even that of her neighbours, the few she ever had been acknowledged to. “The nature and their freedom, the stories the bards so often tell and sing about. Love inspire me. It’s all I ever come to know, although more through words than anything.”

Twilight began to set it’s mixture of lights when their conversation seems to come to an end. The king rose and so did Rosamund when they began to stroll back inwards.

“I miss the simplicity, the basics. Whilst I for one admit to enjoy all the luxury that life in my position can provide, I also crave for a life with no concerns. Could this be possible?”

“I like to think, my lord, that no life is possible without faith beforehand. Otherwise, where else would be placed the purpose of our existance in first place? It is only then that comes the nature of simplicity we aim to achieve. And the love we long to feel.”

To talk about deep perceptions of the world, however limited one could be in comparison to other due to the experiences one had and the other lacked, was something that brought such delight to Rosamund. It was a feeling that Henry himself reciprocated, something he desperatedly looked for in every lady he fell for. But in reality, he knew it now, all the love he thought he felt for others was the reflection of lust. For little by little he could see that she gave him what he needed the most: love.

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Rosamund believed they would only meet in only luxurious occasions, but this was not meant to be. Sir Walter would proudly say, as the days turned to weeks and weeks to months and he began to enlarge his properties, that never before he was so lucky to have had daughters. In the month after Rosamund and Henry began to court, Amicia and Lucia were promptly married. Amicia, to a baron named Osmund FitzHugh of Richards Castle, and Lucia to another baron named Hugh de Say of Clun Castle. Now there was only his son to marry and he hoped the king could find him a wealthy heiress for the union to be perfect.

As before, Rosamund did not feed ambitions in herself. By then she had accepted her fate, and cared very little about the whispers around the village. But her brother had to walk her down the market each time, so she would be the victim of loud accusations for being the king’s whore. It once hurt before, but she would not hear none of it. 

Henry visited her every month, discreetly as the lovers usually were. But he insisted her for having her own household and would not take ‘no’ as answer. He granted her a household thus in a castle made of stones located in Oxfordshire, near Woodstock. There, they would meet... and there, she knew, they would consummate their flames for the first time.

Henry had been wholly respectful of her and, much to her surprise, he would wait for her. So it was towards the summer that, even to her mother’s delight, she moved to her own household, having her servants and ladies to attend her. During his absence, lady Margaery would make company to her daughter, helping her to adjust to this new life, teaching her how to manage it properly as a lady befit to her station should. A chapel would soon be built and lady Margaery thought wise to find one priest who would not refuse the task of preaching a holy life without risking to ruin her daughter’s reputation.

Mid August, Henry told Rosamund he was going to visit her. She decided to receive him properly. Bards were already displayed singing to the guests she placed in it. Only her sisters and their families were attending it, of course. That day, she decided to have her hair loose and dress Henry’s favourite gown, the blue one with while pearls.

In her ears, she wore saphire earrings and necklace to embelish her porcelain skin. Now more accostumed to his valet, going as far as befriending him (and he would espouse a friend of hers, that lady Heloise, laterwards), she received him well.

“Your master is coming, my lady”, he warned her happily. “He is looking forward to see you again.”

Rosamund was in the highest expectations. She was not expecting his full fidelity, aware of the nature of the men, but to possess his heart wholeheartedly as he did hers. Furthermore, there was the love that, two years ago from now, never ceased to diminish.

Henry finally then appeared, dressed in his rich clothes. Rosamund forgot the etiquette and ran to his arms, embraced those strong arms as he greeted her gleefully. She felt his love deeply when his lips touched against her cheek and then moved to her lips. Oh, how much he was longed for!

“A feast to receive me, my lady?” said Henry, smiling widely. 

“It should be especial to receive you properly, my lord”, responded she in turn, with her rosy cheeks. “I pray ‘tis of your taste, though. Nothing gladdens me more than pleasing your lordship.”

The sincerity in her words warmed his heart with full affection. He pressed his forehead against hers before pecking her cheek:

“Aye, how else could I not be? My eternal gratitude shall never be forgotten!”

That night, he conceeded a dance with her, earning a round of applauses of the guests. He then watched her dance with her ladies, and greeted and talked with his lover’s relatives. Finally, then, when it was late night and he was half drunk already, a lady of hers told him he was being summoned by her mistress.

Curious as ever, Henry obeyed the instructions and went after the bedchamber where he usually spent the night. Once inside, he was surprised to see her... disproved of her gown. 

“Rosa...!” he gasped, quickly closing the door behind him.

Rosamund was found lying on the bed naked, her eyes searching for his as her exposed skin much gave signs for longing for him. He approached, undressing himself on the way to attend the invitation, but hesitated.

“I thought...”

She inclined against him, feeling not embarrassment for her nudity as she feared, but suddenly confidence for her curls. Perhaps this was the wine, but she would not like to let go of it. She felt the eyes of his possessing her, but Rosamund want his touch.

She grabbed his hands and placed them over her full breasts, not before she rose his chin and inclined her lips against his.

“Well?”

“I’m yours to command”, he whispered, his voice rusky filled with desire.

He laid her on bed and embraced her warmly, giving her the love she needed--and he needed too. Whilst ‘twas true that he bedded other dames in the years of their unconsummed relationship, hers was his devoted heart and his most hungered desire. ‘Twas so that they slept barely as their bodies loved throughtout the dawn.

“And the bards will sing about a king who loved a damsel of flamed locks, she who gave her heart in a box for him to remember in every equinox.” He proclaimed against her ears. 

“They will remember that there shall be no other lady in this world who worships her lover more than I do, for if there was something I could dispose to be with him that would be the heart for you to carry within.” She smiled, drowning in those deep blue eyes as she feared one day she might.

In moments like these, eternity was a vow both swore to keep. But future had it’s own shadows none could predict. Yet, whilst it lasted, they met and even when it did not any more, their love remained attached. 

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Winter, 1176.

Henry was at Dover. He needed pure air to breathe, he needed to be parted from the world he knew. For he received the news he feared to hear, he feared to have ever been told.

“Sire, we received news from the priority of Oxfordshire. It tells us that lady Rosamund Clifford is no longer amongst us. She... She is dead.”

Away of the public sight, he grieved. Away from the high walls of castles built upon stones, away from the ghosts he lost, he longed for the one he had loved the most. 

Alone, he fell on his knees, devastated. He never wanted her to leave, never to be apart, but damn the circumnstances. He remembered her touch, her caring, the sound of her laughters. He never wanted her to leave...And neither wanted she.

So wept and grieved the king of England for the loss of his most beloved treasured his heart ever possessed and craved for: the love of the rose of the world, the love of Rosamund.

But maybe, in another life, in another time, God would have wanted them to meet again.

➳ lyrics: Adele, “Someone Like You”.

➳ fancast: Daisy Ridley as Rosamund Clifford and Tom Hiddleston/MichaelFassbender as Henry II, King of England.

[saintssleep]

SAINTS SLEEP

[henryfitzempress]

Selected events of Henry II’s reign. A.D. 1157.

Jan-March: During the King's stay in Normandy, Louis seems to have held a Court at Orleans, whereat he publicly recognized the right of Henry II., as Comte of Anjou and Seneschal of France, to custody of the Abbey of St. Julian at Tours. Among the witnesses of Louis's declaration were, Joscius, Archbishop of Tours (who appears to Vaiognes. have contested the matter previously) ; Philip, brother of the French King ; William fitz Hamo ; Robert de Novo Burgo; and Hugh de Cleeriis.

Feb. The Queen and her children leave Normandy, land at Southampton, and proceed to London. Hence at Michaelmas, 11.57, the Fermor of Southampton charges :

July. It was now probably that Malcolm, King of Scots, surrendered Bamborough, Newcastle, and Carlisle to the King. Malcolm seems to have passed through Yorkshire, Lincolnshire, and Nottinghamshire, and to have awaited King Henry at Peak Castle, in Derbyshire, and thence to Peak castle. have accompanied the King to Chester. 

The King invades North Wales. The English army Chester falls into an ambuscade near Basingwerk (at Counsylth).Eustace fitz John and Robert de Courci were slain. Henry de Essex, Constable of England, disgraced himself (as was afterwards alleged) by personal cowardice. With reference to this Welsh expedition, there are many entries on the Pipe-Roll of the following Michaelmas.

Sept. Royal Writ, ascribed to this year, and probably belonging to the month of September, is addressed to Richard de Camvill, Sheriff of Berkshire (whose term of office expired at Michaelmas, 1157). It is in favour of Abingdon Abbey. It is dated at Windsor, and attested, singly, by Earl Reginald (of Cornwall). A Royal Charter, dated at Woodstock, confirms an agreement made between William Woodstock.fitz Gilbert and the Monks of Furness Abbey (Lancashire).

The witnesses (chiefly north-countrymen) are Hugh, Bishop of Durham ; Robert, Bishop of Lincoln ; Robert, Earl of Leicester ; Richard de Luci, William de Vesci, Geoffrey de Valoniis, William de Agremont, Aubert de Grellei, John Constable, Henry fitz Suan, Gospatric fitz Orm, Richard fitz Ivo, and Richard Pincerna. This Charter is expressed to be expedited 'per rnanus Stephani Capellani,'—a Vice- Chancellor, who will afterwards appear in a like capacity as 'Magister Stephanies de Ftdgeriis, Prcecentor of Moretain.

Queen Eleanor gives birth to a son, Richard, at Oxford. Hence at Michaelmas, 1157, the Sheriff of Oxfordshire charges: In corredlo Regince.

Source: Court, Household and Itinerary of K. Henry II

Fancast: Tom Hiddleston as Henry II and Jodie Corner as Eleanor of Aquitaine. Chris Pine as King Malcomn of Scotland; Johnattan Rhys-Meyers as King Louis VII of France.

[margueritedanjou]

Hɪsᴛᴏʀɪᴄᴀʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs ᴡʜᴏ ᴅᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ [ ₄ /₁₀]﹕

● Hᴇɴʀʏ II ﹐ Kɪɴɢ ᴏғ Eɴɢʟᴀɴᴅ ●

● 𝖥𝖺𝗇 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗍:  ●

𝑀𝑖𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑒𝑙 𝐹𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑏𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑠 𝐻𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑦 𝐶𝑢𝑟𝑡𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑒/𝐻𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑦 𝐼𝐼 𝑜𝑓 𝐸𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑

[rosamundus]

@oflegislators​

rosamund  was  familiar  to  repetition  —  she  did  not  like  it,  but  it  had  been  easy  to  grow  used  to  a  stale  routine  at  the  nunnery,  and  it  had  also  been  easier  to  discard  it  and  to  turn  to  the  spontaneity  of  her  life  in  woodstock,  where  boredom  was  often  suddenly  replaced  by  the  bubbling  excitement  in  her  belly  whenever  a  messenger  of  her  king  came  to  her  door  ( if  not  her  beloved  himself ).  in  the  purgatory,  she  had  turned  to  necessity  once  more,  relying  on  a  routine  to  keep  herself  grounded  —  it  was  a  difficult  task,  to  say  the  least,  to  start  again  in  this  strange  place,  by  herself  too.  childishly  she  had  turned  to  the  closest  thing  to  a  mother  abbess  she  could  find,  as  if  in  death  she  could  accomplish  what  she  had  not  been  able  to  do  in  life,  and  it  was  madame  de  argenteuil  herself  the  one  to  announce  to  the  welsh  scion,  quite  dispretentiously,  on  the  day  that  marked  yet  another  year  of  her  anniversary,  about  the  passing  of  the  king  of  england.

heloise  may  have  threaded  around  the  news,  but  to  be  quite  frank,  rosamund’s  talent  to  being  subtle  and  unobtrusive  was  subpar,  and  many  times  had  she  been  punished  for  her  tendency  to  lean  on  extremes  —  she  learned,  of  course,  when  the  feel  of  the  rod  was  still  fresh  in  her  skin  and  when  she  reminded  herself  of  how  she  may  embarrass  the  ones  who  cared  for  her,  but  she  had  often  struggled  against  restraint,  and  it  had  been  no  different  as  she  stared  at  the  history  page  her  patroness  held  as  proof. the  thought  of  her  henry  ( the  man  she  had  tried  to  forget  for  his,  and  her  own  good )  on  his  death  bed  in  anjou,  betrayed  by  all  those  he  had  once  held  dear  was  too  much  for  her,  and  she  had  burst  into  tears  ( much  to  the  distress  of  madame  de  argenteuil,  surely ).  

then,  perhaps,  she  should  have  prayed  for  him,  for  his  soul  to  find  rest  in  a  better  place,  as  she  had  done  many  times  before,  but  the  thought  of  god  and  a  godly  place  escaped  her  —  rosamund  had  often  pretended  so,  assured  her  lord  and  lover  that  his  will  was  the  rightful  one,  but  her  honeyed  lies  were  just  that.  who  could  she  fool  thinking  henry  would  go  to  heaven ?  it  would  be  here  or  worse,  and  rosamund  would  have  him  here.  he  must  come  here,  he  must.  for  thirteen  years  she  dared  not  to  hope,  not  to  dwell  on  what  was  long  gone  when  she  had  been  dead  and  buried  for  too  long  yet  the  sentiment  rose  to  her  chest  again  with  ease  as  if  she  was  back  in  her  castle  waiting  for  her  husband  to  cross  the  maze  to  greet  her  with  his  fervent  adoration.  

the  feeling  remained  throughout  the  following  days,  stirring  in  her  belly  as  a  hunger  that  could  not  be  sated  by  food  nor  drink  nor  any  sort  of  spiritual  healings —  not  that  she  tries  to  sate  the  longing  for  him,  even  as  the  hope  sours  to  an  ache  as  the  days  strech,  and  he  is  nowhere  to  be  seen  on  the  place  she  first  woke  in  this  existence  many  years  before,  where  she  supposed  would  make  the  most  sense  for  him  to  return  to  life  ( if  anything  in  this  place  made  sense,  that  is ).  but  as  much  as  she  waits,  this  time  again,  hope  is  a  cursed  thing,  and  she  begrudgingly  must  convince  herself  to  resume  the  torture  she  has  taken  as  normalcy.  

it  is  when  she  has  nearly  ceasing  the  expectation  that  he  falls  on  her  eye  line,  unassuming  as  he  had  often  wished  to  portray  himself  as,  even  as  a  king  of  one  of  the  greatest  empires  known  to  men.  her  heart  leaps,  stubborn,  fluttering  against  the  restrains  she  had leashed  it  with,  as  she  approaches  the  tavern,  before  he  could  walk  in,  and  she  would  lose  him  from  her  sight  forever,  as  in  one  of  her  worst  dreams  —  so,  naturally,  she  grabs  onto  him,  whoever  this  new  means  of  torture  may  be.  ❝ henri ? ❞  it’s  not  him.  It  could  very  easily  not  be  him  —  the  man  had  been  ruthless,  but  was  that  not  the  burden  of  all  kings ?  please.  ❝ have  you  come  for  me ? ❞

[ltwilliammowett]

The White Ship Disaster

The White Ship was a Nef that sank on its way from Normandy to England on 25 November 1120. Now you might think that this is a normal shipwreck, but it is not that simple. This accident was the presumed cause of a civil war ( The Anarchy) in England that lasted for many years. Even before this event, there were already disputes about the succession to the throne and the claims of Normandy. As a result, the only legitimate son, William Ætheling, was confirmed by Henry I as successor and ruler of both territories, so he and his father had been in Paris. Now it was time to return to England and the company of several hundred people waited for good winds. A ship owner put his white ship, a commercial nef, at their disposal for this purpose. William boarded the ship with 300 noblemen and other gentlemen.

Henry I and his descendants,with the sinking of White ship, Liber legum antiquorum regum; Cotton Claudius D. ii, f. 45v.  (x)

According to the contemporary chronicler Ordericus Vitalis, two of William's illegitimate half-siblings, Maud and Richard FitzRoy, also boarded the ship. Henry I took another ship, which also sailed first. The Nef followed in the night but ran onto a rock as it was leaving Barfleur harbour and sank in short order. Only one man, a butcher named Bérold or Guéroult from Rouen, could be rescued the next morning and report what had happened. This was recorded by the chronicler Ordericus Vitalis who gives an exact account of what has happend. According to this, William had already served plenty of wine on land and thus everyone was drunk, including the crew. That was the moment were Stephen of Blois, a nephew of Henry left the ship.

Detail of the royal family tree from Henry I to Henry II, showing King Henry I, his wife Matilda of Scotland, their children William Adelin and Matilda. Genealogical Chronicle of the English Kings: Royal MS 14 B V, Membrane 5

When the ship finally sailed, a noblewoman is said to have ordered the king's to be caught up. In their eagerness, no one paid attention to the well-known Quilleboeuf rock in front of the harbour exit, which crushed two planks on the starboard side. Water entered the ship and it sank very quickly. William Ætheling first managed to save himself in a small boat, but when his half-sister Maud called for help, he turned back. Now other drowning men tried to climb onto the boat, causing it to capsize. Except for the aforementioned butcher, all those present died.

King Henry I and the White Ship in a series of images of English kings preceding Peter of Langtoft’s Chronicle, Royal 20 A. ii, f. 6v. (x)

This misfortune brought with it unforeseen consequences, for now Henry I, who had many children but only one legitimate heir, was once again without an heir. His wife Edith of Scotland had already died two years earlier. This meant that he had to marry again. Unfortunately, the marriage between him and Adelheid of Louvain remained childless and so, after his death in 1135, his daughter Empress Maud (Mathilde as she was actually called) widow of Henry V, the Holy Roman Emperor, would claim the throne. As she was considered unsuitable as a wife, Stephen of Blois, we remember the nephew of Henry I, was able to make his claim valid. An almost 20-year war of succession broke out between Stephen's and Matilda's parties, which the empress's son Henry FitzEmpress finally won. As Henry II, he ascended the English throne in 1154. He united England and the independent Duchy of Brittany with the French Duchies of Normandy and Aquitaine as well as the Counties of Maine, Touraine, Anjou and Poitou to form the Angevin Empire and established the centuries-long rule of the House of Plantagenet over England.

Why did the ship sink ?

Apparently, and if contemporary sources are to be believed, it was due to the wine that was generously given out. Which ensured that even the crew were so drunk that they forgot to follow the fine line and sailed against it. (Reminiscent of the Titanic and the iceberg, but with the royal family) Strangely, Stephen of Blois left the ship beforehand. Some few now say that he planned it all and that he was actually the one who let the wine flow and also made sure that more flowed during the voyage.

Interestingly, historian Victoria Chandler ("The Wreck of the White Ship: A Mass Murder Revealed?", The Final argument) has found that someone else was involved in the disaster, a steward named Pirou. But no one knows how he survived, whether he was on board or not. Was he the one who served the wine on behalf of Blois? These are questions that still cannot be answered today, but leave a lot of room for speculation. Because if Blois was really involved, then it was not an accident but a mass murder.

Besides Chandler's book, I also recommend Charles Spencer's - The White Ship and Judith A. Green, Henry I: King of England and Duke of Normandy. If you want to read more about this case.

[inky-duchess]

Has there ever been a thing in history where like, a nobleman and his king ended up fighting over the love of a woman and it caused a giant war or lasting political tensions?

The entire relationship between Eleanor of Aquitaine, Henry II and Louis VII. So here's the tea: France as we know it today didn't exist. The Kingdom of France was actually incredibly small with most of its territories actually in the hands of independent sovereign nobles, including Eleanor and the English Crown. Eleanor owned a good portion of France so it was decided that she would marry Louis, the French King. They didn't get on, mainly because Louis was really religious and bored Eleanor and she never gave him sons, they also had a very scandalous blowout on the way to the Crusades. They annulled their marriage and Eleanor left the marriage with her lands. She married Henry FitzEmpress, the heir to the English throne and the rest of the western coast of France. Together, they ruled more France than the French & had a multitude of sons which really grated on Louis but despite this, the couple were actually vassals of the French Crown which made everything every awkward, especially when Eleanor fell out with Henry and tried to start a war.

[minervacasterly]

The Complexities Surrounding Kings, Statesmen & Royals: Trying to make sense of their actions

Some legends are told. Some become famous or infamous but celebrity is as celebrity does. Love them or hate them, they are all changed history -for better or for worse (depending on how you view them).

Henry VIII’s decision to break away from the Catholic Church not only changed English history, but world history as well. Equally so, his father-in-law’s decision to remarry shortly after Isabella died, changed the lives of those around him, especially his favorite and youngest daughter, Katharine of Aragon.

As with every historical figure, I do not need to condone or justify their actions. Readers can do that on their own. But I and many others on this page do feel the need to show them in their proper context.

Henry VIII needed a male heir and as many historians have pointed out in their respective books and documentaries, his descent into madness is the product of various factors. For one two injuries to the head, possible blood type, and the constant reminder that there were others with (arguably) more right to wear the Confessor’s crown and that him and his descendants. And then there is his country to think about. The memory of the wars of the roses was still fresh on everyone’s minds and people were not confident of entrusting the nation to a woman.

This will appear misogynistic to some but this was the 16th century and we cannot apply 21st century standards to this era. The last time that England had come close to having a female King, chaos ensued. Matilda was given oaths of fealty by her father’s barons but after he died they stabbed her in the back and decided to cast their lot with her cousin Stephen instead. Stephen and his wife (also named Matilda but let’s call her ‘Maud’ for the sake of avoiding any confusion) both descended from William the Conqueror so convincing them that the crown belonged to them and their son Eustace wasn’t that hard. But Matilda had her way in the end -although not in the way she would have initially preferred. After Stephen’s wife and son died, he recognized Matilda’s son, Henry FitzEmpress as his heir. He became the first King of the Plantagenet dynasty, a dynasty that ruled England for more than 300 years.

For this reason and other reasons that have already been cited, Henry could not afford to leave his country in the hands of his daughter, a daughter he boasted off proudly to his ambassadors.

But make no mistake though. Henry did have his flaws and these were a product of his rearing and his own doing. Robert Hutchinson who’s often hostile to Henry makes a good point in the documentary presented by Tracy Borman (author of “Thomas Cromwell” and “Private Life of the Tudors”) that he “had the ego the size of the truck”. In his book “the last days of Henry VIII”, Robert Hutchinson states that Henry’s ego grew larger as he got older and his paranoia also increased. He became suspicious of everyone. As Thomas More told one of his colleagues, when the lion knows his own strength, no man can control him. When Henry got a taste of true power, he realized that nothing and no one could stop him.

The list of flaws and attributes on Ferdinand is easier to point out as it is on other kings since they are less controversial than His Majesty, the first head of the Anglican Church. Ferdinand II of Aragon, spouse of Isabella I of Castile, was a caring father who was willing to eliminate the Salic Law so his eldest daughter Isabel could inherit both crowns, thus making his and Isabella’s vision of a united Spain true.

But like every one of our subjects, he was a monarch of his era and once he got a taste of power he was unwilling to let it go. This does not mean that he stopped caring about his daughters or his wife. He always maintained his love for Isabella, but as someone who had won many battles and was hailed as a consummate politician and astute king, he believed he would rule the kingdom of Castile better than his surviving older daughter Juana. Juana herself had asked him for help after her husband died. Ferdinand took advantage of this and the rest as they say is history.

But what about Catalina? Some of you might still be thinking that his treatment of his so called favorite daughter harsh and irresponsible, further proof that he was a dick and you might be right but once again I have to remind you that this was 16th century politics and royal families had to deal with their struggles differently.

Ferdinand was embroiled in another civil war at the time that could reach chaotic proportions like the one between his wife and “La Beltraneja” three decades prior. As a result, he could not do much for her but this did not stop him from looking for ways to get her out of her predicament, even if for a short while. Ferdinand turned Katharine into the first female royal ambassador and through this new position, Katharine fare a little better. Being her parents’ daughter, Katharine understood that this was something that also benefited the two of them as she would be her father’s eyes and ears and that if he continued to score points against her sister and her husband, she could have a better chance convincing Henry VII to honor his promise and marry her to his remaining crown heir.

Thomas Wolsey is another figure of contentment. When I was doing this I was thinking of putting Thomas Cromwell but I opted for Wolsey instead because there have been enough posts about the King’s most hated secretary and right-hand man. There are not enough about Wolsey though and that is because Wolsey is easier to dismiss or hate. The man was a conniving, ambitious, heartless man who was a natural enemy of Henry’s true love, Anne Boleyn. He was simply awful.

^That’s how many history buffs generally view him as but the truth is far more complicated than that. Unlike his aristocratic contemporaries, he could not afford to get out of a situation that easily. He was a servant of the Catholic Church but bound to Henry VIII first. He was kept under a close watch and more than everybody he knew how easy it would be to anger his master. He had to keep his favor no matter what -and to his credit he did try. But there was so much that he could do. He could not serve both masters adequately and when Henry realized that he would not get him what he wanted, he listened to Wolsey’s enemies who were eager to see someone of low birth who had risen higher than them brought down. Wolsey never made it to his trial. He died. (No, he did not kill himself like “The Tudors” showed. He died due to medical problems and because of the stress he’d been put in.)

He was as everyone said, corrupt and had a lot to answer from but he was not an anomaly in a time where everyone was an opportunist.

Last but not least there are the York brothers. A troublesome lot whose decisions are also seen through 21st century lens but which make sense once we begin to read more about their lives and the events that brought them to the dangerous game of thrones that was started by the Lancasters and their father, Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York.

The legitimacy of the Lancasters had been put into question since Henry IV took the crown from Richard II. Richard II had nominated someone else to be his heir but with his unpopularity growing and Henry of Bolinbroke's popularity surging, his plans were undermined. Deposed and later murdered, Henry's reign put into question his House's legitimacy and right to sit on the English throne. These questions were raised during the Barons' rebellions at the end of his reign but were hushed during his son, Henry V's reign. A major reason for this is because Henry V became a national hero and only someone who was truly suicidal or had delusions of grandeur and no knowledge of how the world worked, would openly denounce or challenge Henry V. But after he died, it became open season again. Henry VI, in the words of many historians and novelists, has been described as a dullard and an utter failure of a monarch and a man.

Men in this era were supposed to fulfill a certain role. He was a scholar like his father, financed universities, painters and other artists, but when it came to war, he shied away from that. A King was meant to be a warrior, a bringer of justice, someone who inspired loyalty in the hearts of his men and fear in the minds of his enemies but Henry VI inspired neither.

After most of France was lost and he agreed to give away part of it after he married Marguerite of Anjou, questions about the House of Lancaster being the rightful dynasty to rule over England began to arise again -this time by none other than his cousin, the Duke of York who was seen as an ideal leader. He possessed qualities that Henry VI did not but he did not make it evident that he sought to be King. It is unlikely that it was his goal from the start but after quarreling with Marguerite over issues like the regency when her husband went into a short catatonic state, and how to deal with the situation in France, and favorites whom he considered were undermining everything the king's father and his late uncles had worked hard to achieve, he was pushed into a corner. He could either continue with his demands and risk being declared a traitor or do the unthinkable to survive.

He obviously chose the latter. When Marguerite of Anjou heard that Henry VI had disinherited her son in Richard and his sons' favor, she became angry and the rest as they say is history.

If Richard had qualities Henry VI did not, his older surviving son, Edward, Earl of March, had that and more. He was the antithesis of Henry VI. Handsome, tall, a womanizer, and with the stomach for war, he inspired loyalty and fear and after his father died, he set out to avenge him by deposing the king and declaring himself King of England.

Edward IV enjoyed many victories but they came at a cost. The brothers who appeared united under a single banner of the sun of York soon let their jealousy fester until it blossomed into something malignant.

George, swayed by their cousin, the Earl of Warwick, rebelled against Edward IV (twice). He was pardoned and he and his wife were restored to favor once he rejoined his old and younger brother to fight against the Lancastrian threat. The three rid themselves of Henry VI and his only son at long last, leaving only Marguerite of Anjou alive.

Their animosity did not last and once again George began to become suspicious of his brother as Edward IV became suspicious of him and long story short, when George suspected that his wife had been the victim of foul play, he questioned two of his servants and made (what he believed to be secret) terrible statements against his brother. Edward IV did not take this too kindly and had him executed. George was drowned in a butt of malmsey wine.

But the clearest example of brotherly betrayal and envy is that of Richard III. Calculating, generous to his tenants and those around him, he showed no disloyalty to Edward IV until like his namesake and their father, he was once again pushed into a corner by another queen and her family. Richard could either convince the Woodvilles to agree to Edward's will naming him protector or share the regency with them until his nephew Edward V reached the age of majority but this was a fool's dream. No party would ever compromise to such a thing. It was a dog eat dog world and only one could survive. Like the fantasy the wars of the roses has inspired, there was no middle ground here so Richard did the only thing he could think of to survive: He declared himself the one and true king, convincing his allies in parliament to annul his late brother's union with Elizabeth Woodville under the basis he had been previously engaged to Eleanor Butler. This disinherited his nieces and nephews and since his older brother George had been tried as a traitor, his son could not inherit. That only left Richard.

It is easy to see why figures such as these will remain controversial. Their actions are hard to decipher but before jumping on any bandwagon, one has to ask the important questions of what, when, where, and why? The 'why' will never be fully answered but the more one reads about them, the more sense their actions start to make.