Chapter 1,
8th September 1066.
“It is time my dear.” The Countess’ soft voice broke into Herbert’s reverie and he closed his book, blinking owlishly in the dim light of the candles and wondering how he had missed the gathering darkness. Already the days were getting shorter.
“Time for what?” He asked, trying to remember. Had he forgotten a celebration? A court meeting?
“The children, my lord Husband. You remember that you have a son and a daughter of course?” She was teasing him now, Herbert’s doting on his children was well known in Vermandois.
“I remember begetting them certainly!” The count replied with a lustful grin, “As I recall Adele was conceived at this very table. Perhaps we should give her a little brother or sister.” He reached for his wife and tugged her into his lap as she giggled, accepting his kisses before pulling away to put a little space between them.
“Later my lord, now we must focus on the children we have.” She insisted, although the way she wriggled caused Herbert’s attention to divert southwards for a few moments. “… six years of age and we must start considering alliances.”
“I am only a count, my dear.” Herbert reminded his wife. “A count with a glorious name for sure. There is no-one else in the kingdom that can boast my descent from Charlemagne, no less than ten kings of France have come from the ranks of my family! But for all of that we are a diminished clan, and with the Duke of Normandy making his play for the English crown, I fear that the Great Lords of France will be looking for stronger allies.”
“You sell yourself short” Alix scolded her husband. “You are a Karling, and so are our children. That counts for much, and you yourself are a man of importance in the realm. You serve the king directly, and hold Vermandois independent of the dukes. With his majesty still years from his majority this is our time. The king needs loyal men and your support has been steadfast for many years. I think he would kindly on a closer match with you, showing his vassals the rewards of loyalty.”
Herbert smiled, remembering exactly why his wife played such a role in the affairs of his county. “Scheming again my dear?” He asked, before the full impact of her words sank in. “Do you really think he’d consider a match?” The train of thought begun in his mind, possibilities come quickly. “The Princess Emma is yet unattached – she would make a fine match for Eudes. Or perhaps Prince Robert for Adele, there is some question of age but the Prince is still young.”
Countess Alix nodded her head to her husband’s musings. “I hear good things of Princess Emma, she would make a fine match for Eudes.” Leaning in she kissed her husband deeply, before he swept his book from the table, deposited her on it instead and the pair began to focus on other familial matters.
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Melun, 28th September 1066.
Seeing the fortress at Melun always impressed Count Herbert. Long the seat of his ancestors, the noble castle towered over the wide banks of the Seine and remained, unmistakably, the seat of royal power in France.
“Thank God the rain has held off, eh brother?” He called to Pierre, his younger brother and Court Chaplain, brought along to deal with any theological concerns that might be raised.
“Indeed my Lord,” Pierre responded, crossing himself with one hand. “He favours our mission today.” The Court Chaplain was a learned man and just, but also a man of comfort who preferred the less onerous, and more profitable, post of Court Chaplain to an actual bishopric – being forced to travel to Melun had left him discontent. “Mayhaps we will arrive soon and taste his Grace’s hospitality?”
“Very well brother!” Herbert responded with a grin, “Why don’t you lead the way then?”
With the Court Chaplain uncomfortably in the lead, the Count of Vermandois entered Melun and dismounted. A liveried page hurried up. “My Lord, the King will meet you momentarily, if you would follow me please.”
Leaving his horse with the stablehand the Count followed the page up to the King’s Solar, a well lit room which showed the king’s increasing martial bent. Swords and slightly undersized armour littered the room and as the Count entered he found the King’s manservant straightening furniture.
“Count Herbert!” came from behind him, in a voice that started high and dropped startlingly through two octaves. Herbert spun and bowed deeply, “Your Grace, it is an honour!”
King Phillipe brushed the Count’s courtesy aside and approached, clasping Herbert’s arm in a good approximation of a warriors grip. “Please, my Lord, sit and take a cup of wine. You were lucky with the rain we’ve thought for sure that you would arrive dripping like a hound!”
“We were fortunate, Your Grace. My chaplain prayed for much of the journey and he appears to have the ear of at least one saint.” Count Herbert replied, trying to match his King’s jovial tone as he poured wine for them both. Once the King sat, the Count did likewise, trying to find the words to broach his business.
“I appreciate you seeing me so quickly Your Grace. I know you have many matters of state…”
“Which are boring!” The king responded leaving his chair to roam around the room, “My tutors spend hours forcing history and stewardship into my head. I wish to be a king! To lead on the battlefield and win glory – as did my father, as did the great Charlemagne your illustrious ancestor!”
His youthful gaze spun to face the Count, “So, my Lord, I have received your proposal for my sister’s hand. It was well written and eloquent – as I would expect from any court scribe. Tell me, Count Herbert. What have you to say for the match?”
Herbert struggled to keep the surprise from his face. ‘Precocious indeed! Someone has prepared him well for this meeting!’ He thought, trying to regain his thoughts, which had been scattered in the face of his young king’s energy.
“There has long been a bond between our houses, Your Grace.” He began, feeling his way in the conversation. “Your sister is already known as a young woman of beauty and intelligence, an honour to you and your family. Any prince would be lucky to gain her hand.” He paused, realising that he was coming across as much too humble. “However, your Grace, there are no princes of Europe who can claim the heritage and family which my son, direct blood of Charlemagne himself! No other family can claim such long and faithful service to you and the House of Capet. We have stood by you through many years, through strife with the Emperor and conflict with your vassals. I stand by you now, your most loyal subject and I have not asked for reward – my holdings are small, but my family is proud, our lineage is the finest and, should you accept the betrothal, then you will have my loyalty and that of my family, from this day until our line ceases.”
The king paused his roaming, watching his Count carefully. “You speak well my Lord, and truly. I know you and your father have long been faithful servants of the crown. Your position on our frontiers against the Empire makes you an important vassal and one who I respect.”
Leaning over the table and looking his Count in the eye, Phillipe would have cut a fine figure if he were a year or two older but, as Herbert felt the chill of rejection creep up his spine, his king suddenly shrank to a boy – a well prepared boy no doubt, but a boy none the less.
“I will not allow your son to marry Princess Emma.” The king said, and Herbert put his goblet on the table, ready to rise and make his departure with what grace he could. “I have something else in mind. You have a daughter as well I understand – Adele? I cannot spare my sister, she is destined to bring me an alliance to help ward off the Empire, but it is important to show that I am a King of France – and a true lord to my vassals.”
The king paused again for a long moment, leaving Herbert on tenterhooks, “My Lord, I would have your daughter’s troth, that we may be married when she comes of suitable age, so she would sit by my side as Queen of the Franks. What say you?”
Herbert dropped to one knee, seizing the king’s hand in both his own. “Your Grace, my liege! You honour me! I would be honoured to call you my son-in-law. I accept, with all my heart!”
Phillipe pulled the Count up and embraced him. “And I will be honoured to call you Father. Now… with that arranged we should think on a suitable match for young Eudes. He will need a bride who will not bring disgrace to the Queen of the Franks. What do you know of Aines d’Poitou…?”
And Ainès, that is the (possible) heir to the south of France, I guess? I remember her from the CK1 days, a sure way to earn power in the French kingdom. 
