Night settled on the city. The stars resumed their eternal nightly watch over the black northern sky, and very few could see the ship coming in the harbor, and the sleepy harbor-master was not pleased by this arrival. In the middle eleventh century however, there were no ship arrival/departure schedules...
She had survived. So had the little ones. If God had only given his miracle on that October morning on Senlac hill...
What's past cannot be changed, she thought, we can only learn from it to improve the future.
The future. Ever since that panicked escape from Dover all her life was about the future. The present didn't matter anymore. Neither did her own life. Not since he died.
They got off the boat. Little Harold started crying. She hushed him. Displeasing your host is death for an exile...
Morning rose over the Danish coast. They had spent the night in a roadside inn, praying for God's help. Perhaps He had poured His wrath upon England and had no more to give. As she payed the innkeeper and exited with the two little boys, she looked across the sea. Across it, she could imagine the Usurper's lackeys being chastised for their failure to bring her in for execution or worse, admission to the harem... if he has one, she thought, I wouldn't put it past a bastard to act like an infidel.
There was no more time. Feeding Ulf she set out for Roskilde, and in her hands she carried not only two little baby boys, she carried the hope for England's restoration to its rightful rulers...
They were there. Here would fate be decided: Whether they would find a permanent home and future base for operations, or would they be cursed to eternal wandering?
truly there must be a God she thought as she entered the throne room.
And met the gaze of Sweyn II, King of Denmark and Arbiter of Godwinson Fate.
"Welcome," he said, putting on a mask of sympathy, "let us not dally in talk. You have the boys?"
"Yes," she said, "but I ask to keep them with me until they come of age."
"Fair enough," her host said, "time is one thing we have in abundance. You will be allowed to raise Harold and Ulf as you see fit, but with one condition."
"Which is?"
"That when they reach the age of 16 they will each swear oaths of loyalty to me and be granted a county each, under my or my heirs' direct supervision."
"We are yours."
"Hopefully England shall be ours one day," he replied, and suddenly the room faded away, and another one appeared.
She was standing in Westminister Abbey. Where she had had so much joy with Harold, was now taken by the Bastard.
A few men she recognized. Odo of Bayeux, Conan of Brittany, but hated so much, William the Bastard of Normandy.
Then the horrible happened.
A man in episcopal robe came near William and set upon him a crown, much like Harold's, too much... Red filled her vision.
"Are you all right?" came the voice from another world.
But all she could say was: "Never again..."
******************
Alright, so just to explain:
I am tired of long load times and inability to save in CK2, so with the recent mini-resurgence of CK1 AARs I have decided to try my luck.
Be sure to check back tomorrow (if I feel like writing) for the Historical Prologue of Under the Arrow-Pierced Eye!
She had survived. So had the little ones. If God had only given his miracle on that October morning on Senlac hill...
What's past cannot be changed, she thought, we can only learn from it to improve the future.
The future. Ever since that panicked escape from Dover all her life was about the future. The present didn't matter anymore. Neither did her own life. Not since he died.
They got off the boat. Little Harold started crying. She hushed him. Displeasing your host is death for an exile...
Morning rose over the Danish coast. They had spent the night in a roadside inn, praying for God's help. Perhaps He had poured His wrath upon England and had no more to give. As she payed the innkeeper and exited with the two little boys, she looked across the sea. Across it, she could imagine the Usurper's lackeys being chastised for their failure to bring her in for execution or worse, admission to the harem... if he has one, she thought, I wouldn't put it past a bastard to act like an infidel.
There was no more time. Feeding Ulf she set out for Roskilde, and in her hands she carried not only two little baby boys, she carried the hope for England's restoration to its rightful rulers...
They were there. Here would fate be decided: Whether they would find a permanent home and future base for operations, or would they be cursed to eternal wandering?
truly there must be a God she thought as she entered the throne room.
And met the gaze of Sweyn II, King of Denmark and Arbiter of Godwinson Fate.
"Welcome," he said, putting on a mask of sympathy, "let us not dally in talk. You have the boys?"
"Yes," she said, "but I ask to keep them with me until they come of age."
"Fair enough," her host said, "time is one thing we have in abundance. You will be allowed to raise Harold and Ulf as you see fit, but with one condition."
"Which is?"
"That when they reach the age of 16 they will each swear oaths of loyalty to me and be granted a county each, under my or my heirs' direct supervision."
"We are yours."
"Hopefully England shall be ours one day," he replied, and suddenly the room faded away, and another one appeared.
She was standing in Westminister Abbey. Where she had had so much joy with Harold, was now taken by the Bastard.
A few men she recognized. Odo of Bayeux, Conan of Brittany, but hated so much, William the Bastard of Normandy.
Then the horrible happened.
A man in episcopal robe came near William and set upon him a crown, much like Harold's, too much... Red filled her vision.
"Are you all right?" came the voice from another world.
But all she could say was: "Never again..."
******************
Alright, so just to explain:
I am tired of long load times and inability to save in CK2, so with the recent mini-resurgence of CK1 AARs I have decided to try my luck.
Be sure to check back tomorrow (if I feel like writing) for the Historical Prologue of Under the Arrow-Pierced Eye!
