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The Enemy Within: Lancaster, 1066

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May 31, 2004
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Greetings, all. Without further ado, I shall introduce my first AAR.

Starting as Duke (Earl, technically) Edwin Leofricson, the game is being played on Normal - Normal, v1.03 going through v1.03a.

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Historical Background:

In 1065, Harold Godwinson was Earl of East Anglia, Wessex and Hereford, and the second most powerful man in the Kingdom. He was also the focus of the growing opposition to Norman influence and favouritism in the Saxon monarchy of Edward the Confessor.

Harold married Edith, daughter of Leofric, the Earl of Mercia. Leofric also had two sons - Edwin and Morcar Leofricson.

During 1065, the people of Northumbria rebelled against Harold's brother, Tostig, and Harold supported Morcar against him. The people of Northumbria chose Morcar as their new Earl, strengthening the house of Mercia and Harold's claim to the hearts of the Saxon people, but fatally dividing his own house as Tostig sought alliance with King Harald Hardrada of Norway.

Harold Godwinson was crowned on 5th January, 1066, after the death of childless Edward the Confessor, claiming that he had been promised the crown. Although the Saxons supported his claim, England was invaded by King Harald of Norway and William, Duke of Normandie, who also claimed the English throne.

Edwin (now Earl of Mercia) and Morcar (Earl of Northumbria) were defeated by King Harald in the Battle of Fulford, near York, on September 20th, 1066. Five days later, King Harold's army defeated the Norweigans at the Battle of Stamford Bridge and pushed them out of England.

In spite of his help, Edwin and Morcar did not march with Harold to face William at Hastings, and Harold was defeated and killed.

Edgar Aetheling, a blood relation to Edward the Confessor, was elected as King, but was only supported by Stigand, Archbishop of Kent and Edwin and Morcar, who wanted to tie the crown to their own house. Even these nobles soon realised the inevitable, and Edgar submitted to William in December 1066, uncrowned.

King William treated Edgar well, and kept a close eye on his former supporters, now amongst his vassals. However, in 1068, Edgar joined Edwin and Morcar in a Northumbrian rebellion against King William. The rebellion was crushed, and although Edwin and Morcar were pardoned, they were stripped of their titles.

Edgar fled to the King of Scotland, and married into their royal house. He also found common cause with King Canute of Denmark, who believed himself the rightful heir to the English throne. Their combined forces invaded in 1069; they captured York, but did not proclaim the independence of Northumbria.

A furious King William marched northwards to face them, devastating the land as he went. He paid the Danes to leave, and forced Edgar to flee back to Scotland. Edwin Leofricson was killed trying to raise a Welsh rebellion, and Morcar fled to Ely in Cambridgeshire, where he became an outlaw. He was later arrested, and died in prison.

Edgar Aetheling was sent back to England in the terms of the peace treaty with Scotland, but made his peace with William in 1074. He never fully gave up his claims on the throne (or his impressive knack of picking the wrong side), and supported Robert against William II in 1089, and again found himself fleeing to Scotland. From that point on, the Norman royal lineage was undisputed.

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Introduction:

The story begins in December 1066. Edwin is Earl of Mercia and Morcar Earl of Northumbria, the last surviving Saxon houses in England. Although their common cause with Stigand, Archbishop of Canterbury has dissolved, the anti-Norman feeling in northern England is still very strong.

Meanwhile, Edgar Aetheling is a ward of King William, and is to be found either in his court in Normandie, or currying favour with the Scottish King.

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Goals:

Edwin and Morcar plot the downfall of William the Conqueror, and the House of Normandie. Their aim is to overthrow the King, and become Kingmakers; placing their own dynasty behind the ruling line.

The former Earldoms of Mercia and Northumbria are becoming less and less meaningful in the changing country, and so they must also see the transition from their Earldoms into the stronger and lasting Dukedoms of Lancaster and Cumberland.

Finally, the AAR will continue to follow the dynasty across time and see what good or evil befalls them.

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Writer's Note:

Given the liberties already taken, I'm not going for a historically accurate portrayal of any of the main characters involved, nor replicating their historical efforts. The nature of all characters will be defined by their characteristics in-game.

Also, I have no convenient way of taking screenshots.
 
Excelent start. Although im confused, does the opening story give away the unfortunate failure of Edwin and Morcar?
 
Heh...you've caught me before I've even posted the first piece.

In answer; no. Edwin and Morcar failed historically, but I'm not attempting to reproduce their failure. Rather, I'm trying to explore what might have been, had they not tried to rebel against the full might of England with such little preparation.

Its quite possible that Edwin and Morcar will meet a sticky end. But that's yet to be seen. :)
 
Mike has the truth of it.

I've played through the first ten years, and I'm in the process of writing things now. It is my hope to craft a story, as well as just an AAR...and to that end, I'm pleased that there have already been some interesting twists.

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Prologue

December 1066 – Lancaster Castle, Earldom of Mercia


In the darkened room, with the candles burned to flickering stubs, and the rain beating down on the roof above, the seven men had sat. They had sat themselves at a rounded table, and the youngest had poured wine into each of their glasses with trembling fingers. Each had taken their glass in their hands, and they had all made a toast, a toast before the eyes of God, and in front of their fellow men.

"To Mercia. May our name live strong for a thousand years."

Edwin felt it as if he were there again, sitting in the darkness with his brother and his son, and all of them lifting their glasses one by one, and condemning themselves with their words.

"To Northumbria. May our people never lay down their arms when duty calls."

Shaking his head to clear it, Edwin, Earl of Mercia, walked past the dying embers of the fire in the great hall and into the corridor beyond, his footsteps echoing against the stones.

"To unity. Let us be the shield that protects our friends, and the sword that slays our foes."

Too much ale, his head was throbbing. He'd needed to drink, they'd all needed to drink tonight. Less than a week ago he was prepared to fight rather than be arrested for treason, and then he and his brother had been pardoned. Edwin would have loved to be a fly on the wall of that decision, but his birds had not yet made their way into the new Norman court.

"To the Saxons. May we never bend our knees to any Norman lord."

Edwin stumbled as he at last found his bedchamber. He felt that he was making noise fit to wake the dead, but the servants had long since retired for the evening, leaving him and his brother, Morcar, to their ales. Even Morcar had shown sense enough to stop, curse him, Edwin grumbled, as he steadied himself against the doorway.

"To...To King Edgar. Long live the true King!"

He groaned. He had been young once, he had believed in true and right-born Kings, but after forty years he'd seen enough trickery in the court of England to last him a lifetime. And where had it got his family? Shunted up here into the far north with the King's disfavour. Wonderful. Edwin slumped backwards into the bed, but he couldn't close his eyes. There were other voices still waiting to speak.

"To the Glory of God, and to those who do the Lord's work with their own hands."

Only the Lord's voice hadn't been there, had he? Was it too far, or too risky, or was Stigand simply playing a cruel game with everyone for want of matters spiritual to attend to? True, he had crowned the royal pretender, and been forgiven for a holy man...had he swayed the King's decision, or had he laughed with glee when his own neck was spared, without a thought for anyone else?

"To us...to our seven...and to the fall of the House of Normandie."

Edwin sat up rigidly, a foul taste in his mouth. Had he really spoken those words? What was it that had made him sit at that table, with people he couldn't even be sure that he could trust, and spout treason against the King? Were we just deluding ourselves? But no, because after he spoke the others had called "Hear Hear!", and they had all drunk, and cheered as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"To the fall of House Normandie, and the end of Norman filth in our lands..."

Good Lord, thought Edwin, as he rolled himself onto his side. What have we got ourselves into?
 
Hmmm, it occurs to me that Norman culture predominates England - and thus, it is inevitable that eventually, the Leofricson heir will be ... Norman! Nooo! *cries into mulled wine*
 
There there. Have some mead.

A fine ideal, getting rid of the Normans. I wish you every success.
 
I say kick those bloody Frenchmen out of England. England for the English, I tell you. Death to the Conqurer! Save the English Language!!! Just umm...don't invade Ireland this time abouts :)
 
OOC: Thanks to the 1.03b update, there had to be a restart of the scenario, hence the slight delay. This time, Ralph de Gael wasn't a complete harebrain, but scarily enough the Leofricson method of dealing with the de Gael's is looking eerily similar, and every bit as effective...as you shall see. In fact, there's more double-crossing and treachery since the restart, which can only be a good thing. :)

The next update will be very shortly - probably in the next couple of hours.

Ben - Good luck with your game as Lancaster. I enjoyed Lancaster's start point in the pre-1.03 versions; now, the changes which implemented the Saxons have just been crying out for an AAR. ;)

Mike - Despite Edwin's wise and scheming nature, it is highly unlikely that he would broker a marriage with any Norman unless the gains were enormous - and certainly not with his heir! He will do his best to ensure that the Saxon line continues; a spattering of foreigners in his house can be tolerated, but if his direct heir isn't either Saxon or English, it is likely that he will arrange it so that someone else inherits. By whatever means necessary.

Stynlan - Thanks. I'm not sure exactly how successful the Leofricsons will be, but its already making for an interesting game.

Judas / Roger - *Edwin throws a broken bottle of ale in his direction* Aye, and you can stay there, if it please you.

DanielMcCollum - Couldn't agree more, although...hmm, Ireland does look tempting. ;) Right now, the Leofricsons and any other dissenters against the crown have more than enough to worry about in England. Wales is a constant source of tension for Edwin, and Scotland an uneasy neighbour for Morcar. Until the crown of England is in their hands, the Leofricsons will be limiting their political meddling to Britain itself.
 
Good begining. I am glad to see another story aar pop up. I see the British Isles are the birth of many a tale, as you now join Judas' and frogbeastegg's with yours. I myself was initialy thinking to write my story aar in the British Isles...tons of interesting choices there, and while I was toying with an Irish idea lately, I think my next effort will be... Elegy for the Dragon - Welsh tale time. Oh well, but for now the Pecheneg song is still strong, and the winds of the steppe blow. Good luck with your tale I will be watching. Death to the Norman usurpers!
 
Shaytana - Thanks. I'm enjoying the other British AARs as well - its also interesting that they probably couldn't be more different if we three tried. ;)

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Chapter One: From the Ashes

Spring, 1067 – Lancaster, Earldom of Mercia


The noise and bustle in the market surrounded the three riders as they meandered their way through the town. High above them, the castle sat impressively atop a steep hill, the sun glinting off the mailed helmets of the guards on the gatehouse, and sparkling off the Lune river, snaking along the base of the hill to flow into the nearby bay.

Estmond knew the view well from the castle, having spent many afternoons on the roof of the Great Hall, looking out across the land. He had grown up in Leicester, the true homeland of the Earls of Mercia, but his father had come out here to Lancaster when the Vikings had landed on the Yorkshire coast, and once William the Bastard became King, Leicester had been given to the Duke of Norfolk.

His horse whinnied, and he controlled it with a deft push of his heels. Estmond prided himself on being an excellent rider, and a swordsman to boot, and had bested many of the castle garrison, despite being only sixteen, but the iron sword at his side still felt strange to him, so recently using wooden swords. The clash of iron set his nerves jangling, and he preferred to tilt a quintain rather than another knight, but his father had insisted..."My heir must be able to take care of himself in battle, Estmond, or no-one will follow him. I can teach you all the arts and crafts of the court, but without that sword, no-one will follow you."

True to his word, Estmond had his sword, and now men followed him; though they were not his own men. The two riders behind him had come from Northampton, and had rested in Derby the night to avoid the rains which had made the road impassable. Although no horse had come before them, Elfrida somehow had heard of their arrival, and Edwin, his father, had bid him meet them on the road and escort them back.

With the briefest of nods to the guards at the castle gate, Estmond led the riders into the bailey, and dismounted. The stableboys were already seeing to the horses as he led them up the steps and into the great hall. His father was seated on his chair, his advisors at hand, and Estmond noted his step-mother's presence too. He had still not grown used to seeing her at court, but his own mother had died of a fever a year past, and his father had insisted upon remarrying. Gro was the daughter of the Danish King, Estmond knew, and a princess at that. He didn't understand why his father felt it so important that he marry her, yet he despised foreigners in general. There had been foreigners here recently, seeking to marry Aelflead, the young steward-turned-chancellor, many from the Viking lands. Perhaps that was why his marriage to Gro was so important, since no-one else could understand them but her.

Estmond bade the riders sit, and walked the length of the table, past a number of other petitioners, with a mind to joining his father. He had got no further than half-way when Edwin slammed his gloved hand onto the table in a fist and began yelling. Estmond stopped in his tracks; he knew better than to approach his father in such a mood.

"I will not listen to this damnable petition a moment longer. How dare they wander in here and talk of marriage so soon after their swords spilled our family's blood at Fulford? Do they think me a lackwit, to forget that so soon?"

Gro, as always, was the first to try to calm her husband. "My lord, they mean you no slight," she said with honeyed words, still stilted with her Danish accent, "but great honour. That the Duke of Trondelag would wish to set aside the differences between you - "

"I don't care if the King of Norway himself came here on his knees and begged for her. I will not marry my Chancellor to any house in that wretched land."

"My liege, I know what Hardrada has done, but it serves no purpose to salt the wound." Elfrida, the greying mistress of whispers, spoke in a soft voice. Leaning closer to Edwin, so that no others might hear, she continued. "Your marriage to Gro ties us to Denmark alone. Norway would make a useful ally."

Elfrida was a strange one, Estmond mused. She seemed to never be around at the court, except to whisper something into Edwin's ear. She certainly never bothered with Estmond unless he sought her out, which was rare. She always seemed to know what was happening, he knew...as often as not, before it happened. Elfrida had been his father's spy master for as long as Estmond could remember...he remembered asking her once, when he was no more than nine, what she did when she wasn't at court. She had said to him "If you see a man's shadow, you see where the man is." Taking a torch, she had put it close to the wall, and her shadow had fragmented in the light into eight or nine indistinct shapes, none of which looked much like her. "But a torch in the right place gives a man many shadows, and a man with many shadows can be in many places, hear many things without anyone ever knowing where he is, and do many things without anyone ever knowing what he has done."

Estmond had looked puzzled. "So what do you do?" he had asked in bewilderment. Elfrida had smiled. "Sometimes I'm the torch..." she said, "and sometimes I'm the shadow." And she had smiled, a strange, almost gleeful smile which had given him nightmares for a week.

Aelflaed herself stood blushing to one side and said nothing. Barely eighteen, she had avoided marriage by working studiously under her father, the former steward of Lancaster. He had died in the past winter, and Edwin had taken her on as steward for a time, before making her his Chancellor, and dividing the steward's work between himself and his wife. Since then, as the only eligible girl in Edwin's court, the offers of marriage had been flowing thick and fast from across the North Sea.

Edwin's lips tightened, and his face was still red with rage, but he was calming. Estmond knew that the moment would pass soon, as they always did; rare storms of fury in an otherwise calm sea.

"The single marriage of a courtier to a Duke will not reconcile Mercia and Norway," he spoke truthfully. "Tell the Duke of Trondelag's chancellor that he is wasting his time, but tell him nicely."

Gro frowned, but spoke something rapidly in Danish. The Norweigan Chancellor looked surprised, as if he had not considered that his offer might be declined, and for a moment he looked utterly lost. Then his composure recovered, and with a few words in broken Danish, bowed stiffly to Edwin and to Gro, and took his leave.

He had barely stepped four paces down the hall when the envoy of a Swedish count stepped forward. Estmond wondered if perhaps he should just slip away and practice his swordplay when his father's eyes fell upon him.

"Sweet heavens, boy, are Siward's riders here?"

"Yes...yes, father, they are."

"Excellent, that's the best news I've had all day. Send them in at once."

One of the riders stood and raised a hand. "My lord," he called, "we are in here at present."

Edwin's eyes opened in shock and he looked at his son. "For pity's sake, child, how long have you been stood there?"

"I...a couple of minutes, maybe..."

"Oh, enough. I despair of you sometimes, Estmond, really I do." Edwin launched to his feet, his slightly overweight face taking on its more normally genial countenance. "Come, friends, let us share a glass of wine."

Gently, but firmly, Edwin pushed a Danish chancellor aside. He had gone no further than two steps before the Swedish envoy began his indignant protesting.

"Enough," yelled Edwin cheerily, "Cease! Desist! I won't hear any more marriage offers this afternoon, nor any further petitions. Come now, don't look so glum, the girl's not going to vanish overnight. Aelflaed, see that our honoured guests are comfortable in their rooms. They are, of course, all guests of honour for the feast tonight, my servants are at their disposal, the town at their leisure, and so forth."

With grudging acceptance, the small group of Scandinavians allowed themselves to be ushered from the chamber, and Edwin sat closer to the Northamptons and indicated that they should join him. Aldred d'Audley, Edwin's marshal, a grizzled and scarred man of forty, pulled a nearby stool in closer. His uncle, Ealdred de Greystoc, sat to one side chewing on something. He was starting to truly look his age as he approached his sixtieth year and father time began to catch up with him. Ealdred had been Edwin's marshal until the battle of Fulford, after whose bloodshed he had finally been forced to defer for his nephew. These days, Estmond knew, he hung about the court, a begrudging shadow of his former self. The other advisors professed to value his opinons, at least to his face, but Ealdred's mind was slower these days, and there was less and less of use he found to say.

As the last of the petitioners left the hall, Estmond noticed that Gro and Elfrida had both gone. Unsure whether or not to stay, he took a seat and listened as his father talked to the riders.

"I trust your journey was not too tiresome, my friends."

The rider who had spoken before looked uneasily to the other. "My lord, I'm afraid that we too are here to ask for the hand of -"

"Only Aelflaed's hand? Why, how marvellous of you. I can give one hand to you, another to the Count of Sjaelland and the rest to the Duke of Trondelag, and please you all."

The rider gave Edwin an uneasy look, unsure if he was being mocked. Edwin's eyes sparkled back at him. I know why you're here, my friend. Does that have you worried, or curious?

"As it please m'lord...we come at the request of Lord Waltheof Siward, Count of Northumbria, who seeks a union of marriage between himself and Chancellor Aelflaed, at your lordship's pleasure. I had not realised news of our coming had reached you so soon. We were delayed but a day by the rains."

Curious, then. "The House of Leofricson hears all, my friends, sooner or later. Well, m'lord Siward does me an honour by asking, and I am greatly flattered for the girl's sake. But might I ask, what exactly does Lord Siward seek in this marriage?"

"Lord Siward has no heirs nor wife of his own, m'lord."

"Yes, yes, I suspected that much," This man is court educated, one of Siward's trusted? God, I pity him. "I meant what else does he seek. Why Aelflaed, and not one of King William's court?"

"I..." the man seemed rather embarassed. "I believe m'lord prefers a girl who speaks his own language, begging your lordship's pardon. He has heard tell that Aelflaed is passing pretty, and youthful, and he means to make common cause with your lordship."

Really? Now that is interesting. "Common cause, indeed? Am I to take it he is displeased with his liege, and perhaps to swear fealty to me instead?"

"Pardons, m'lord. I had not meant to imply..."

"No, no, it was but a jest. Your lord offers his friendship and goodwill, then."

"And a hundred florins, m'lord."

Ah, that's more like it. "Lord Siward is too kind, that is quite a sum considering your last harvest. Aelflaed has family here, my friends, a mother and sisters who would miss her."

"They may accompany her to Northampton, if they wish."

"Ah. I had rather thought that Aelflaed might be allowed to visit them, from time to time? Or at least write to them. She is a most devoted young girl, she would want to know that they were safe and sound. She worries so, ever since her father died of the fever."

The man looked blank. "But of course, if m'lord desires it."

"I do. Aelflaed would scarcely forgive me if I did not mention it to you. My lords, your offer is an excellent one. I accept, with all my heart and goodwill to your Lord Siward."

The broad smile on the man's face was a treat, Edwin thought. "Now, my lords, if you will excuse me. I must consult with my advisors about replacing the fair Chancellor, my servants shall see you out. You are, of course, welcome to a room overnight. The castle is a mite crowded, but I am sure we can find you somewhere."

As the riders left the room, thanking Edwin over and over, his advisors came around him. Estmond joined them, having little better to do. Out of nowhere, Elfrida had returned, or perhaps she had been there all the time, behind a torch, he mused.

Edwin looked to Elfrida first. "See to it that Aelflaed is informed of her duties before she leaves. She must be a dutiful wife to Siward, give him all the heirs he needs, and whatever else he plans. What we require of her -"

"- is that she tells us whatever else he plans."

"Exactly. If he plans anything, I want to know what it is. If he raises his troops, I want to know where, and why and how many. If she hears any of Ralph de Gael's schemes, I want to know of them, and if any Scotsman, so much as a beggar, sets a foot in his court I want to know all about him and any message he might have had. Especially if it is from Aetheling."

"It will be as you say, my lord. I shall brief her immediately."

"Good. Remind her that I am not by nature a cruel man, and she has served me well. She shall be paid her dues as steward and chancellor - make it thirty florins, to recompense her for her troubles and the loss of her father. Tell her for anything of worth she sends my way, more florins will follow. I shall find her family employment here in the castle, and ensure their well-being, provided she does her duty. She's a bright girl, she'll understand."

Estmond understood what his father meant, but he couldn't see why it was so important. Edgar Aetheling was the rightful King, though - maybe that had something to do with it. Estmond rarely understood his father's plots and schemes. He had once asked his father to explain to him, and after two hours his father had given up and in desperation sent him to learn with Elfrida, who did no better; after that, he'd only studied with Marshal Ealdred.

"I am sure she will, my lord. Who will take her role as chancellor?"

"Gro will take her place. She is well-educated in the courts, a princess and my wife besides. She is not someone who will be ignored, and she has a gift for speaking."

Aldred grumbled loudly. "Now that leaves us with no steward."

"And that's a tougher nut to crack. I would rather not try to run the four counties without a steward."

"What about Estmond? He could steward for you, couldn't he? Or take a county for himself?", asked Aldred.

Estmond shuddered. He'd rather be a marshal than a steward. Being a Count appealed to him a little more. He was about to voice that, but his father had already spoken.

"No...I have other plans for Estmond. He shall have a county of his own, but not in Mercia. No, we need someone else for..."

"Its me, isn't it?" called the cynical voice of Ealdred from the end of the table. "What you mean is that there's no-one else who can think and count worth a damn, but you can't bring yourselves to say it straight, so I'll say it for you. You need me as your steward."

Edwin ground his teeth together. The worst part was that the old man was right. His court was simply too small, and there were no merchants he would trust to take on. His brother's court, nor his vassals had no-one to spare who could steward either, he had already asked, and he would never sink so low as to take a Norman.

"Sir Ealdred," he began, with a honeyed smile, "as ever, you are one step ahead of me. I do beg your services as a steward, as it happens. Will you honour me by accepting?"

Ealdred chuckled, a dry throaty sound. "I should refuse my lord, being that I would rather hold a sword than a pen, but in truth I tire of sitting here getting a sore arse listening to you all talk of the realm because I have nothing better to do than wait for God to take me. Even counting coppers is preferable to counting hours. I accept."

"Then its decided. As of now, you shall wear the steward's chain of office; I shall have Aelflaed bring it to you. Now, if you'll excuse me, my realm awaits. Good day, gentleman, and my lady."

Edwin pushed back his chair and left the hall with a dignified air. After the door closed behind him, his advisors went about their business, save Ealdred who continued to sit and chew on something, cracking his knuckles together loudly and smiling like a little boy.

Estmond shook his head sadly and made his way out into the bailey to practice his swordplay, wondering what his father's plan for him was....
 
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Excellent update... I see the competition for best British Isles aar truly heating up now. Loved your long update from beggining to end.

Update Highlight:

"If you see a man's shadow, you see where the man is."
"Sometimes I'm the torch..." "and sometimes I'm the shadow."

(Just because I am who I am......and that actualy sounds very close to something I wrote lol, preternaturaly similar in fact)

Another thing I picked up:

"The broad smile on the man's face was a treat"

I can't remember seeing this use of language before.(could be my faulty memory) Dully catalogued. ;)
 
A lovely scene there. Let's just hope that William doesn't have any spies at court!
 
I've taken an intrested in England after the conquest since a year or so, hence, I enjoied your writing very much. Good start, well written and a promising storyline.

Yours sincerely,
OG
 
A great AAR! One of the first games I play may involve playing one of the remaining Saxon houses or, perhaps, simple a Non-Norman house in Britain. I'd love to one day do a Mod which Harold won at Hastings.
 
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