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Day One
David
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For a moment, David remained as he was. It was unbelievable. What they thought might happen really had.
David was aware that his reluctance to battle it out with his neighbors sometimes resulted in those neighbors viewing him as weak. It didn’t seem to matter that Philippe should know better. They’d had conversations on this very topic two years ago! They’d also signed an agreement shortly after that, confirming David in his holdings.
But Philippe himself was ambitious and surrounded by equally ambitious advisors—and anyway, that agreement hadn’t satisfied both parties. David would have preferred a truly independent Aquitaine—not to mention the return of Brittany and Normandy to his control—and Philippe was intent on gaining Aquitaine for himself. In truth, Philippe should have taken it a year ago when David was preoccupied with the rebellion led by John Balliol. That said, Philippe might not have known about the uprising at the time. Unlike in Avalon’s history, Balliol hadn’t gone to France for support, viewing Philippe as David’s ally, erroneously as it turned out.
David clunked back to earth and managed not to snort in disgust as he rose to his feet. His presumption from the start had been that Philippe would retain Aquitaine for himself. The only change in the proceedings so far was that he’d asked for the duchy on David’s first night in Paris rather than tomorrow night at the formal ceremony they’d agreed upon. Never mind that the arrangement had actually been for Philippe to return Aquitaine to David, not keep it for himself.
If David had arranged to stab an ally in the back like Philippe had just done, he would have wanted to get it over with too.
And yet, it wasn’t actually all that comforting to be right.
Facing David were the self-satisfied expressions of all four of Philippe’s advisers, who were arranged around Philippe’s throne like an awkward family Christmas picture. David tried to read something in Philippe’s face that could tell him what was going on, other than the obvious, but Philippe’s countenance resembled a block of ice and gave nothing away.
What Philippe perhaps hadn’t thought through in his effort to steal Aquitaine and humiliate David, was that if David was no longer the Duke of Aquitaine, then he was ‘just’ the King of England, and that was a far mightier and powerful position to be in. For a heartbeat, David thought about saying so, but a pinching around Philippe’s eyes, the first indication that the French king was feeling anything other than disdain, had him reconsidering.
Then Philippe looked away, his nose in the air. It was abrupt and rude—but so had been the entire sequence of events. Preparing for the worst hadn’t just been about whether or not David and his family ended up in captivity. The outcome of this meeting would change England and France—and thus the lives of real living, breathing citizens of both countries—forever.
When David thought about it, which he made himself do quite often, it was terrifying to have so much power over other human beings’ lives, and the knowledge that he did have that power drove him every day.
He could hear his mother saying, as it should.
Such considerations did not appear to be driving Philippe.
In the seconds that followed, guards wearing the white and blue surcoat of the French court hemmed David in on all sides. They weren’t quite holding his arms, but their intent was clear.
Bishop Mornay took the opportunity to step to the fore. “Please escort the former duke to his chambers.”
Again, he didn’t say the King of England, and David wondered if they’d momentarily forgotten who he really was, or—and this caused him another moment of real concern—they knew of yet another plot to usurp his throne, some nefarious scheme going on at home while he was busy in France. Or they themselves were in the midst of perpetrating one.
Well, his people had planned for that too. It was why David’s father had stayed behind, along with Nicholas de Carew, Edmund Mortimer, and Humphrey de Bohun. If any of them decided to betray David in an attempt to usurp his throne, he truly was in a pickle.
And really, the beauty of representative government was the way it empowered the populace and stabilized bureaucracy. A king could die, but the government would live on. David had real hope it was too late to stop the Confederated States of Britain from continuing, with or without him.
At the moment, Bishop Mornay’s smug expression was extremely irritating—but informative for all that. It told David that his was one of the hands that had guided the proceedings.
“You will be staying as King Philippe’s guest. As you no longer have any lands on the Continent, any incursion by you or your men will be viewed as an act of war. That includes any defense of Aquitaine. You will write a letter to the commander of your forces there telling him to stand down immediately.”
David stared into Mornay’s craggy face, and then transferred his gaze to the other advisers. All of them appeared pleased by the proceedings. But then Nogaret, perhaps the sharpest mind among them, began to look thoughtful. David quickly looked away, unwilling to reveal to him anything of what he was thinking and afraid that, if he met Nogaret’s gaze, he would.
Perhaps David should have protested more, to better convey to everyone that Philippe’s decree was unexpected. Protesting wasn’t in character for him, however, and he decided stoicism could be an equally valid response. To that end, he turned on his heel and marched down the aisle towards his family. When he reached Lili, she fell into step beside him, entirely ignoring the men who were supposed to be encircling them, and went with him to the door.
David took her hand in his, realizing as he did so that it was more for his sake than for hers. The truth was, he couldn’t have done this without her—not only her consent but her willing support—and her utter faith in him to get them out of this mess in one piece. It occurred to him only now that she was no more accustomed to being helpless than he was.
Philippe’s steward hastened to keep pace. “If you would come this way.”
“And if King David were to decline King Philippe’s hospitality?” This came from Archbishop Romeyn, who looked as if he’d aged ten years in the last ten minutes. He had been party to certain aspects of the plan, but since he’d been posted in Paris and was always watched, David hadn’t spoken to him in two months. It looked as if Philippe’s actions had engendered genuine shock.
So David put a hand on his arm, as a way to settle him, and turned to look directly at the steward. Perhaps he himself wouldn’t have asked the question so forthrightly, but now that Romeyn had, David really did want to know how far Philippe was willing to go to detain him. No English king, no matter how weak, would go meekly where he was told, especially not after giving up an entire duchy.
Looking worried, the steward glanced back towards the dais, but whatever signal he received alleviated his anxiety because he straightened his spine and said, “I would have to insist, my lord. I hope you will comply.”
David could have told him that hope was not a plan.
Fortunately, David had one of those too.
