The Saga of The Accursed Kings is one of the great French literary works, which served as a major inspiration for Game of Thrones, a well-known book series. The Accursed Kings follows the struggle between Mahaut and Robert of Artois, two nobles vying for control of the eponymous county. Mahaut, who inherited the county from her brother, did so against the interests of her unborn nephew. Additionally, Mahaut, also the Duchess of Burgundy, had married her daughters and their cousins to the three sons of King Philippe IV. However, they fell into disgrace during the Tower of Nelse affair when they were all accused and convicted of adultery or complicity.
Meanwhile, Philippe IV, known as Philippe le Bel, was dissolving the Templars, going so far as to publicly burn the Grand Master. The Grand Master, before his execution, uttered a curse proclaiming that the king, his ministers, the Pope, and their respective descendants would soon appear before God. This declaration was swiftly taken seriously, as the Pope would die a few days later, followed by Philippe le Bel himself. Philippe IV had three sons who would quickly succeed him to the throne, to the point where the sole male descendant of Philippe was his grandson Edward III, son of Isabelle of France. Edward III, as one would expect, was the King of England. In France, the nobility chose Philippe of Valois, the nephew of Philippe le Bel through his brother Charles, as their sovereign. This choice ultimately led to the famous Hundred Years' War, a conflict between the House of Valois and the descendants of Edward III, vying for the throne of the fleurs-de-lis. It is worth noting that the English claim to France continued (on paper) until 1801, with English monarchs continuing to use the title King of France.
What if... What if the descendants of Philippe le Bel had survived? The Hundred Years' War would never have taken place. Granted, one can speculate that numerous tensions would have arisen between France and England, but an outright war? Let us delve into the story of Jean le Posthume. In reality, Jean was the posthumous son of Louis le Hutin and Constance of Hungary (his second wife). As the eldest, Louis reigned for a year after the death of Philippe le Bel. Jean was born a king long after Louis had passed away and, although he died just a few days later, he was the one who reigned from the day of his birth until his death. The reasons for his demise invite various conjectures: while some point to the fragility of an infant and the significant infant mortality rate of the time, others attribute his death to the machinations of Mahaut of Artois, who would also be accused of poisoning kings, princes, and ministers. With Jean's passing, the crown would pass to his uncle, breaking the tradition of inheritance from father to son that had prevailed thus far.
You understand it well: here, we shall follow the journey of Jean le Posthume, who, had he not perished prematurely, could have lived and forever changed the history of France. Initially, we will follow Jean and his descendants. Without the Hundred Years' War, the entire imperialist and colonial history of these two nations would have been altered forever, as well as their relative powers during the industrial era.
This narrative is based on the work of The Accursed Kings, which inspired Game of Thrones, and not on historical reality. While the story is grounded in a certain reality, a number of characters and events have been invented and fictionalized. The book series was adapted into a television series, and my favorite rendition can be found at the following link. The subtitles may not fully capture the richness of the spoken language, but at least they enable non-English speakers to appreciate it.
Meanwhile, Philippe IV, known as Philippe le Bel, was dissolving the Templars, going so far as to publicly burn the Grand Master. The Grand Master, before his execution, uttered a curse proclaiming that the king, his ministers, the Pope, and their respective descendants would soon appear before God. This declaration was swiftly taken seriously, as the Pope would die a few days later, followed by Philippe le Bel himself. Philippe IV had three sons who would quickly succeed him to the throne, to the point where the sole male descendant of Philippe was his grandson Edward III, son of Isabelle of France. Edward III, as one would expect, was the King of England. In France, the nobility chose Philippe of Valois, the nephew of Philippe le Bel through his brother Charles, as their sovereign. This choice ultimately led to the famous Hundred Years' War, a conflict between the House of Valois and the descendants of Edward III, vying for the throne of the fleurs-de-lis. It is worth noting that the English claim to France continued (on paper) until 1801, with English monarchs continuing to use the title King of France.
What if... What if the descendants of Philippe le Bel had survived? The Hundred Years' War would never have taken place. Granted, one can speculate that numerous tensions would have arisen between France and England, but an outright war? Let us delve into the story of Jean le Posthume. In reality, Jean was the posthumous son of Louis le Hutin and Constance of Hungary (his second wife). As the eldest, Louis reigned for a year after the death of Philippe le Bel. Jean was born a king long after Louis had passed away and, although he died just a few days later, he was the one who reigned from the day of his birth until his death. The reasons for his demise invite various conjectures: while some point to the fragility of an infant and the significant infant mortality rate of the time, others attribute his death to the machinations of Mahaut of Artois, who would also be accused of poisoning kings, princes, and ministers. With Jean's passing, the crown would pass to his uncle, breaking the tradition of inheritance from father to son that had prevailed thus far.
You understand it well: here, we shall follow the journey of Jean le Posthume, who, had he not perished prematurely, could have lived and forever changed the history of France. Initially, we will follow Jean and his descendants. Without the Hundred Years' War, the entire imperialist and colonial history of these two nations would have been altered forever, as well as their relative powers during the industrial era.
This narrative is based on the work of The Accursed Kings, which inspired Game of Thrones, and not on historical reality. While the story is grounded in a certain reality, a number of characters and events have been invented and fictionalized. The book series was adapted into a television series, and my favorite rendition can be found at the following link. The subtitles may not fully capture the richness of the spoken language, but at least they enable non-English speakers to appreciate it.
Jean le Posthume - Year 1 (1316)
The Regency Council was assembled in the same chamber where Philippe le Bel and his ministers had administered the Kingdom of France, until his death followed closely by his eldest son, Louis le Hutin. After Louis, power passed to his posthumous child, still in the womb of his mother, Constance of Hungary. The pregnancy had been arduous, but under the watchful guard of Hugues de Bouville. And today, on November 14th, 1316, the prayers of France were answered (with few exceptions): God granted the French a king, Jean.
At the long table, the most powerful figures of France and Navarre were gathered. At one end stood the vacant throne of King Jean, and beside it, the seat of his mother, also empty, as Regent Constance was confined to her chambers, recovering from childbirth. Along the length of the table sat the government of France: Hugues de Bouville, guardian of the king; Tolomei, the head of the Sienese bankers in Paris, and his nephew Guccio Baglioni, a favorite of Constance, both entrusted with matters of the treasury; Uncle Philippe de Poitiers, the Dauphin and heir to the crown, and Uncle Charles l'Oison. Charles de Valois, brother of the late Philippe le Bel and former quasi-Emperor of Constantinople. Robert d'Artois, the primary counterbalance to the aforementioned three. Each harbored their own ambitions, with most forgetting the interests of the people, while only a handful genuinely cared for the health and life of King Jean.
Hugues de Bouville
Hugues was among the latter. He rose to his feet, as it was his role to preside over the Council on behalf of his new master. "Messieurs, thank you for being present. I am delighted to announce that our King Jean has been born and is perfectly formed in every way. With the lineage now secured, it is our duty to safeguard the interests of our kingdom until His Majesty can personally reign. May we now proceed to discuss the affairs of France?"
The two Sienese were the first to respond. The aged Tolomei was a cunning fox, well-versed in the health of noble purses, as most of them borrowed sizable sums from him. "We have experienced a terribly poor harvest year. The grain barely feeds the people, and it scarcely enriches the knights. It is possible that everyone in France will be quite poor," he spoke.
"We could impose new taxes. The privileges from the time of Saint Louis would prevent the nobility from becoming discontented," interjected Charles de Valois, a grand lord who, despite being the son and brother of kings, was destined to remain a nobody. Disheveled and extravagant, he only thought of shearing his subjects to repay his own debts.
"Would you risk new rebellions? If the people are hungry, they may very well make it known," countered Philippe de Poitiers, a man whose mind was as sharp as his late father's.
"Make it known? Who asks the people for their opinion?" spat Charles de Valois. It was easy to discern that he was referring to the two bankers. De Valois had despised de Marigny, the previous efficient treasurer who happened to be born a commoner. Now, his contempt was directed towards the Sienese.
"My dear Prince," responded Tolomei, with the tranquility of a free man. "My dear Prince, you were quite pleased to find us when it came to the matters you know well."
Charles de Valois changed his demeanor, making a gesture that could have meant everything and nothing. He had everything and nothing on his mind. Robert d'Artois, who liked the banker, the money he lent, and the support he provided, thundered, "Cousin Charles, Sir Tolomei is an excellent man, just like Guccio. Their counsel has been useful to us, and it will continue to be. Speaking of which..."
Robert d'Artois had only one thing on his mind—his county of Artois, which, according to his claims, was unjustly controlled by his aunt Mahaut. Hugues quickly intervened, not giving him the chance to expound on his situation. "Speaking of which, then, how are our finances?"
Tolomei seemed to be amused by the scene. Relaxed, he replied, "The coffers are not empty, which is not so bad. Although grain has been scarce, trade with the Empire and English Aquitaine has been profitable. Peace is good for business." He proceeded to provide a detailed account of the situation, and everyone agreed that trade was thriving.
"As for England, how are our affairs with Edward II?" This time, it was Guccio who was sought for his expertise. Although the young man was favored by Queen Constance and well-regarded at the court of Isabelle of England, the French crown never failed to take advantage of this by sending him as an ambassador.
"Edward II has informed me that he accepts pledging allegiance to the King of France in his capacity as the Duke of Aquitaine. He aspires to have no quarrels with our lord and our kingdom while he busies himself with his church and castle affairs, constructing and renovating," Guccio conveyed.
"Glad to see our cousin still has a passion for masonry," remarked Charles de Valois.
"And the masons," added Robert d'Artois, whose remark elicited a few smiles from the assembly. With his mere presence, Robert could make stones laugh and desacralize popes.
"Certainly, these are good tidings," said Hugues de Bouville, "but do we have sufficient resources in case of conflict? The expedition to Flanders revealed weaknesses in our armies."
The subject was delicate. After the episode of the Muddy Host, which had humiliated Louis le Hutin, every noble and knight preferred to cast their gaze downward when military matters were discussed. Philippe de Poitiers, a wise man and a good knight, had been entrusted with the administration of the army.
"We have learned our lessons, and we are better prepared than before. However, I suggest that we refrain from seeking conquests, as they cost us dearly," he advised.
"And what if a Crusade were necessary?" Charles de Valois raised his perennial question.
"Come now, the time for Crusades has passed," interjected Guccio. "The last time I discussed it with Pope John, it wasn't even under consideration during the election."
Charles l'Oison had not spoken. He was considered a fool, but even his narrow mind perceived the burning ambitions gathered there. He had felt stifled by his father, by his brother Louis, and he perfectly understood that both Philippe de Poitiers and Charles de Valois dreamed of becoming kings in their turn. He cast a glance at Hugues de Bouville, who caught it in mid-air. L'Oison was not brilliant, but he was committed to justice and the protection of his own. A valuable ally in safeguarding the king...
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