January 1st, 1067 - New Year, New World
The pale moon shone overhead, bathing the snow dusted land with a pale white light that offered illumination, but no warmth in this sudden freeze. The ruminants of this army, roughly one hundred men in total had made their way from London to the near the cliffs of Dover in the three days after the coronation of the New King of England.
For the last three months William, Duke of Normandy had been slowly marching foreword to London to claim the crown of England that he felt was his right to have. The Saxons had been on the run since the defeat at the battle of Hastings three months previous, where the ground was stained red with the blood of many. William had been recruiting men from far and wide, bringing in able bodies from as far as Venice to aid his cause, with the promise of potential land, gold and title to those willing to aid his cause.
Eustace, the 5th count of Boulogne and second of that name, had heeded the call.
He looked across the channel that would one day bear the name of this new country towards his home. The sea was almost solid looking with its calmness, the moonlight reflecting his rays upon it. He stirred the fire in front of him as it slowly spent its last embers. Around him the camp was quiet; many of the men had already retired for the evening after their celebration of victory days before in London at Williams’s coronation. It was a time of feast, drink, celebration, and rewards.
However Eustace would could out lacking in that regard. His troops, skilled and loyal that they were would not earn glory in battle. Of the six hundred plus men that he had brought with him to the field, only one hundred or so reminded. This would doom Eustace to receive no land or title in this campaign, which annoyed Eustace greatly for he had few men to spare to defend his own realm. He would receive provisions for the journey home and seventy five gold pieces which helped, but the sting of no title weighed on him heavily.
He finished his ale, grimacing as the bitter liquid slid down his throat. His losses were many, but the tow that hurt most would be the loss of Begon, his marshal and Renier, the Bishop of Boulogne. Eustace had already sent a correspondence to the Pope asking for a recommendation for a replacement, but both would be not difficult to replace. Begon was an elder gent that was more into drink than war, and had little knowledge of the latter. The fact that he was the best military mind in the kingdom next to himself was disconcerting to Eustace, for to hold his meager possessions would require someone with skill, a trait that Begon had little of outside of an ale house. Renier was no better; he fell within five minutes of the infantry crashing into each other by a stray arrow from the Saxon barrage. He and Eustace had never really conversed often, as he was more a favourite of his late father.
May God grace me with one that is more gifted to my realm, though Eustace.
A small satisfaction of this melee would be found, and that is that the earl of Dover would be exiled from his lands forever, having opposed William during this campaign. William had no love for ones that stood against him, and those that had were slowly being exiled to the Iberian lands. A smile warmed Eustace’s heart to think that the descendant of the Earl of Dover, who had insulted his honour so many years ago would find his son a slave to a heathen Moor. Vengeance is the Lord's, thought Eustace, and He is very good at crafting its execution.
A sudden gust of wind quickly put out the last remnants of the fire, startling Eustace with its unexpectedness. He looked back at the camp and the threes behind, but they made no movement. He placed his hand on his sword, feeling uneasy all of a sudden and stood up to look around the camp to make sure everything was as it should be.
As he stood up, he noticed that all the lamps for the evening watch had been extinguished, and the watch not to be found! They have abandoned their posts! brooded Eustace, but found as he edged closer that they were there, but looked to be asleep. He cursed them under his breath; they would be awoken with the end of his foot to their backside. He walked closer to one of the guards when he heard a rustling behind the camp towards the woods. He turned to see a dark shape, as tall as a man moving into the woods. Eustace followed drawing his sword as he expected this man or apparition to be at the root of these odd events.
Eustace tried to swiftly follow his quarry, but this man seems to know the woods as if it was one with them. He left neither noise nor footprint to follow, only the sight of his shaded cloak. Eustace, being barely ale to see his steps in front of him cursed softly under his breath at his quarry's skill for stealth travel through the thick woods, a trait that he lacked with each rustled leaf and cracked branch.
After a while, they had reached a clearing where the open field was surrounded by large trees, with a rock in the center. Eustace looked around but his quarry had vanished into thin air. Eustace was fuming that he had been led by a figment of his imagination, and hoping that it was not a trap. He decided to test his sanity, yelling out to the clear night "Show yourself coward, and answer to me!” holding his sword at the ready.
"I answer to no man", a strong voice rang out, like booming thunder was its volume. Eustace turned to see the cloaked figure on top of the rock in the center of the clearing, its cloak now a brilliant white as it reflected the moon's rays. He heard a sword being drawn from under the figure's robes. It's voice began again, "...but to the One True God Himself!", it rang out, drawing his sword and throwing off his robe, revealing a blinding light like a thousand suns which emanated from it's body, spreading it's arms in an expression of grandeur, it's wings unfurled.
Eustace shielded his eyes, blinded by such light. His knowledge of theology was poor but he knew that this was no man, but a messenger of God himself. "Who are you?!” he tried to reply over the blinding fear that now seized his mind and soul.
The figure slowly descended the rock, its radiance diminishing to an amount that would no longer blind his subject. "Do you not know the Archangel Gabriel when He is before you, Eustace of Boulogne?” the angle replied in perfect French.
Eustace immediately recalled this knowledge from a very long time ago in his youth, his father trying to teach him scripture. The name had been mentioned as God's massager, and his general of heaven's forces in battle. Eustace quickly sank to his knees, holding his sword for balance as he trembled in fear. Was he to be judged, had he already passed on in the night? "I apologize; I did not recognize your splendor until now.” he replied, his voice shaking with fear.
"Rise Eustace. I am only God's servant, not God Himself. He is the only one worthy of such respect.", the angel replied, it's voice not nearly as powerful as before but still of perfect sound and clarity. Eustace slowly rose to his feet, leaning on his sword for leverage as his knees screaming in pain from their rapid descent. Eustace looked at his former intruder and knew that he was in a state of Grace. The angel was how he was told they would be, with flowing white robes surrounding them, glowing with an inner light that seem to bathe all that it surround in a heavenly aura,
"What would you have of me?” replied Eustace.
"I have come to relay a message from God himself. You are to be sire to the leader of the Kingdom of Heaven.", the angel spoke to him in a calm and even fashion.
Eustace was taken aback. Jerusalem had been under the control of the heathens for hundreds of years. Their armies were known as the largest and strongest in the known world. And he was to be the father of their liberator? "Has this liberator already graced this world's presence?” he asked, assuming that it was his first born, Eustace the Third.
"Yes he has, but it is not of First Born.", replied the angel. "Instead it will be decreed that your second Born shall be on the throne, and no other. To do so will be against the Will of God."
"Godfrey?!” Eustace exclaimed. His was not in line to inherit, and if this indeed came to pass, Eustace III would be the logical heir to its throne under the laws of the Kingdom.
"Indeed. This is the decree of God Himself, and hence supersedes the Law of Man."
"But how will this be achieved? Barring a miracle our lands cannot hope to provide an army able to conquer the might of the heathens that rule Jerusalem.” he exclaimed, forgetting who it was that he spoke of.
"You must have faith Eustace, for events have already occurred to allow such things to happen, and other events will come to pass in the future to aid his cause.” the angle replied, presenting the sword that carried. "When your second Born comes of age, give to him this sword, for it will aid in this Holy Quest.", he handed Eustace his sword, which measured over three feet long and contained a red jewel at the end of it's hilt.
"I shall.” replied Eustace, as he admired its craftsmanship.
"Now I must leave you to your task Eustace. Remember what has transpired this evening, and be true to the task that is given to you.” the angel replied, wrapping itself in the white cloak that it wore before.
"Of course. May I also ask of a favour of you?” Eustace asked with reluctance.
"You may. What do you wish?” the angel curiously replied.
"I ask that if my father has joined our Lord in Heaven, if you may tell him that I am sorry for ever doubting his teachings. I was a fool in my youth for doubting him", replied Eustace, bowing his head in shame.
The angel smiled at this, replying "Your father does live in Heaven, and I shall tell him of your message.” With this he turned, now returning to the plaid cloaked figure that he had seen before as he faded away into the forest ahead.
The area became dark like clouds had covered the moon and the light it gave.
He had awoken to his second in command standing over him, a look of concern on his face. "My Lord, are you well?” he asked, as two more shoulders came into focus.
Eustace stood up and found that it was early morn, the sun shining down upon the clearing with the exact same rock in its center. Eustace shook his head, wondering if it was all a dream that he had experience last night. "Yes I'm fine Faoen.” he replied groggily. "How did I end up here?” he questioned his men, wondering how he could have gotten so far in his sleep.
"We do not know my Lord, but it seems this area is of foul craft. We found our evening watch in the same state as you, and all of the lanterns were extinguished when we woke this morning. We had been searching for you for the past hour as the boats have arrived. The men should be loaded upon their now.” Faoen replied.
Eustace remembered the watchmen being knocked out, but that still didn't explain how he ended up here. "How did you find me?” he stated, getting up on his feet to a powerful ache in his head.
"We followed your tracks my Lord", the shoulder replied. "They led us to here through many a thick wood and brush. It must be at least five or ten miles from our camp that you traveled too, it's a wonder that we found you at all."
Eustace was amazed at the distance, but also annoyed that it would take so long to travel back. "Very well, let us be off to home and away from this odd and strange land.” he stated, finding agreement from the search party. They began to re-trace their steps, as Eustace noticed that he was missing his sword. He looked on the ground under the dusting of fresh snow. His fingers hit the hilt of one sword, and the shape of another above it. He grasped it by he hilt and lifted it out of the snow.
The snow cascaded off the blade, revealing a red jewel at the base that shone the sun's rays back at him.
A sword destined for warmer climates one day? Or to become forlorn and forgotten on cold stone walls? Guess we'll find out eventully.
