This week, we're pleased to welcome again author Austin Hernon with his latest novel, THE WARRIORS OF THE CROSS, book two in the series, Robert: The Wayward Prince. Join us again on Sunday for an author interview, with more details about the story behind the story. The author will offer a free copy of book two of Robert: The Wayward Prince to a lucky blog visitor. Be sure to leave your email address in the comments of today's post or Sunday's author interview for a chance to win. Winner(s) are contacted privately by email. Here's the blurb.
Robert, Duke of Normandy, eldest son of William the
Conqueror, responds to the clarion call of Pope Urban II to Christendom. In the
company of the foremost nobles from Europe he undertakes a mission to liberate
Jerusalem in what comes to be known as the First Crusade.
Robert, passionate and idealistic, is inspired by
the idea of fighting for God against the heartless infidel – but comes to change
his mind as he witnesses the godless behaviour of other Christian lords, some
of whom he counted friends.
Over a long arduous journey Robert discovers that the
hearts of men, Christian or not, are swayed by lust for blood, land and power. As
the physical privations set in, through the deserts of Asia Minor and
especially at Antioch, and fear and danger take their toll, he sees avarice and
treachery overcome Christian motives and is appalled at the resulting bloody
chaos. But like it or not Robert is a leader, and if he hopes to return to the
woman he loves in Italy he must bring his military skills to bear to ensure his
decimated war-band survives to take Jerusalem.
**An Excerpt from The Warriors of the Cross
(Book
Two-Robert: The Wayward Prince)**
Robert is
re-acquainted with Matilda, la Gran Contesse, in Lucca, Italy, on his way to
Jerusalem.
Chapter 2: An Italian
Winter
At the reception.
That
evening, suitably cleansed, we attended Urban’s court. He was surrounding
himself with the mighty of northern Europe, who, coming to give muscle to the
holy cause, did not entirely believe in his positioning as the leader of this
venture. He might have the words to move people’s hearts, but this was now a
military matter, prayers having failed so far to release the holy city of
Jerusalem. Nevertheless we attended in good spirit being quite certain of our
impending success in the matter.
Stephen of Blois, Robert of
Flanders, Duke Allen of Brittany and me: together we were all dressed in our
finest. Odo and Gilbert had also dug out some suitable vestments from their
baggage and we made an impressive entrance to the cathedral where Urban was due
to lead us in prayers.
At the front, only partially
visible through the fug of incense, and suitably shielded by her close
attendants, Matilda was sitting in demure majesty, ensuring that none would
mistake the fact that here sat the chiefest woman in all of Europe. I made no
attempt to approach her, what secrets we held would remain between us.
When the prayers were over, Urban
made full use of the opportunity to deliver yet another tedious homily, in
praise, it seemed, of his idea of bringing all these magnificent warriors here
to one place in order to fulfil his heavenly vision. In the end the message
lingered too long and went a little astray, so that the congregation were
pleased to hear the amen and were ready to leave but there was another little
ceremony before that release came.
A priest came to speak to Odo, who
after a word turned to me and asked, ‘Where is your papal banner, Robert?’
I looked at Ragenaus and he nodded
his head towards the door.
‘Will you fetch it for me, please,
Ragenaus.’
He went off and I turned to Uncle
Odo.
‘There is to be a blessing of
emblems and the prince of France will also receive a banner of St Peter like
yours,’ explained the bishop.
‘What prince of France?’ I queried.
‘That colourful youth sitting at
the front, that is Hugh of Vermandois, brother to King Phillip.’
As I peered through the fog of
incense to try and see this royal brat Ragenaus returned and thrust the lance
with the banner into my hand and Odo pushed me towards the front, where the
pope was wai
I approached, and Hugh turned to
give me a glance before he knelt. He was well above me in height and I might
have detected a little in-built sneer upon his lips. Snotty little git. I knelt alongside him and the pope uttered
another well-rehearsed homily as our banners were drenched by a pair of over-enthusiastic
priests. My head received a share of the holy water and I grinned at Hugh as we
stood up; he smiled a little and seemed less haughty. We might get on, if he behaves
himself.
‘Are you Robert of Normandy?’ he
asked politely.
‘I am,’ I replied. He hesitated as
if awaiting some kind of accolade, then introduced himself.
‘I am Hugh, Prince of France.’
‘Then, Hugh, we have a common
purpose in coming here. We may meet again.’
‘D’accord,’ he said as I spied
Matilda looking at me from her front seat, a definite smirk playing around her
lips. I threw my gaze to the heavens and walked back to Odo, my mind on things
other than the blessing of banner
The principal guests were escorted
to a grand chamber where the atmosphere became a little less formal and we were
able to circulate freely.
Among the movers was Matilda. She
gradually drifted in my direction so that after a while we were able to engage
in a conversation, of suitably public content, in public.
‘Contessa Matilda,’ I bowed and
almost made a meal of her proffered hand, ‘we must thank you for the
arrangements you have made to receive us. Here are those who would help us in
our quest. Stephen of Blois, my brother-in-law. Robert of Flanders, my cousin,
and my former brother-in-law, Allen, Duke of Brittany.’
‘Thank you, Prince Robert, quite a
family affair I see. It is the least that I can do when you have travelled so
far in our holy cause.’ She turned to Stephen and Flanders, neither of whom
could resist a modicum of flirting when the opportunity presented itself. ‘My
lords! Have you found your quarters to your satisfaction?’
Stephen and Robert fell over
themselves to claim the hand of this regal power broker. Diminutive, her hair
now a fading russet blond, but her eyes still a piercing blue, she commanded
the space about her in a way that few men could manage. Matilda could charm and
flirt with the best of them – and proceeded to do so. I watched a while in some
amusement as the trio did their best to outshine each other in courtly manners.
Looking about the hall I noted that
Odo had cornered Urban, oh well – he has bored us for long enough tonight, I
expect that Odo will return the favour. Then I spotted Payne and Ragenaus
standing against a wall, appearing bored.
‘What?’ I mouthed. Payne cupped his hands under his chest and
lifted up non-existent breasts, casting his eyes to the ceiling. Of course, the
hall was bereft of women; only we had the privilege of Matilda. I thought to
enquire.
‘You seem to be the lone ambassadress for women tonight, my
lady,’ I said, nodding towards my young men. ‘Are there no ladies for my young
dogs to talk to?’
Matilda, sharp as a blade, took in
the situation at a glance and beckoned over one of her attendants. ‘Take those
two down to the festival in the marketplace, and keep them safe.’
‘Sì, Contessa, they will enjoy la
musica, no?’
‘Sì, and anything else they can lay
their eyes on.’ She grinned at me and lifted an eyebrow.
‘That big one will be very popular,
I believe.’
‘Mm, that is Payne Peverel. He comes
from the hills of northern England, so not the same as my Saxon archer you’ll
remember.’
‘No, but interesting all the same.’ Capricious Matild
Suddenly I became irritated by my unctuous comrades’ efforts
to impress the lady and I turned the subject of the conversation to more
pressing matters.
‘What news do you have you for us, Contessa? Has my friend
Bohemund reached Constantinople yet?’
‘I’ve not yet heard, Robert. But no doubt he’ll be in the
company of Emperor Alexios soon.’
‘Huh! That will be an interesting meeting; they were at war
with each other not so long ago.’
‘True, and who says that they will not resume their squabbling
after the holy city has been recovered? There is more to tell. Raymond of
Saint-Gilles is marching his French army across northern Italy towards Hungary.
Duke Godfrey of Bouillon is leading a large formation of his own troops from
Flanders and Lorraine. Some German soldiers have joined him, and I believe that
he favours the same overland route.’
My brother-in-law replied, ‘He commands great respect in the
north, and has lots of money. It seems that we will be well supported, my
lady.’
‘Yes, Count,’ she responded, a little awkwardly as the points
of his perfect beard threatened her very eyes. She moved back a little from his
too close attentions and replied politely. ‘The Lord has provided; we are
blessed in our endeavours.’
‘And our horses.’ I remembered that small point. ‘What of
Aethilheard; you remembered him from our previous visit?’
‘Ah, yes!’ responded the Contessa with a light in her eyes,
‘and the Saxon prince, Edgar, sent by your father as our wedding guest. Are
they all like that in England? I must pay a visit.’
‘My lady,’ I replied, ‘the land is full of blond-haired,
blue-eyed warriors with moustaches. You liked the Saxon?’
‘I did, he was amusing, Robert. He idolises you.’
‘He does? I suppose so. You know how much I trust him?’
‘He was carrying quite a lot of your money. Anyway,
Aethilheard has gone with some fine horses to Constantinople; I made some good
deals and your blond friend has some spare monies in his purse.’
‘Thank you. We will need it, I expect, before this matter is
done with. You said some.’
‘Yes, we have a limited supply of steeds suited to the North
African climate, I am arranging for more to be taken to Cyprus. They will be
kept there in readiness for you; and I am helping you with the costs, to
include placing some Genoese ships at your disposal.’
‘You honour me, gracious lady.
It was difficult to keep my hands off her… and she knew it,
laughing silently in her eyes. I hoped that her under-linen was as wet as mine.
‘Not so, Prince Robert, we both honour God in this matter, and
trust in his blessing.'
I nodded, and dribbled, and she went to engage in conversation
elsewhere. I caught Stephen studying my face and he made to speak, but I gave
him a warning glance, so he swallowed his words and kept silent. There would be
no rumours to trouble the lady’s reputation, not if I had anything to do with
it, but I could not stop Allen, who was not so well informed as to the purpose
of my previous visit.
‘What wedding, Robert? Have I missed something?’
I pondered for a moment.
Stephen said, ‘You might as well tell him, everyone else
knows.’
‘Tell me what?’ the irritated Breton asked.
‘My father had marriage plans for me and Matilda. We decided
otherwise.’
‘Jesu, Robert. You mean you and she have never…’
‘No, Allen, by God’s bollocks, we have never…’
‘Mon Dieu!’ chortled Flanders, with a snort of derision, ‘you
are all over each other like panting dogs.’
‘Piss off, Rob, someone will hear you.’
But they would not leave the subject and Allen tried again.
‘King William sent you to marry the Contessa, and you returned
to Normandy bride-less?’
‘I heard that he was not pleased, Robert,’ said Stephen.
‘By God he was not likely to be. What did he say?’ probed
Allen.
‘Quite a lot,’ I mumbled.
‘Yes indeed, Robert, you went off somewhere just after your
return, I remember it being a cause for discussion with your sister,’ Stephen
added, being helpful.
‘Why wouldn’t she marry you?’ Allen persisted.
I pulled them close, and in a whisper told them.
‘Matilda has Normans to the south, Germans to the north, and a
reputation to keep inviolate with the Church. Marrying me would not be
helpful.’
‘God’s bollocks,’ exclaimed Allen, ‘a Norman domain stretching
to the Alps? The Germans would not like that.’
‘Mon Dieu,’ added Rob, ‘she cannot have men clambering into
her bed; the Church is strange about such things. No wonder she will not
marry.’
‘God’s miracles, you are too loud, someone might overhear us,’
I whispered in frustration.
‘It will only be a blind man, my prince, everyone else can see
how you are with her for themselves.’ Stephen was trying to calm me.
‘Oh, please don’t make it worse,’ I pleaded.
The trio looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders in
unison, and chimed in unison.
‘We see nothing, Mighty
Prince.’
‘Bollocks, you lot. I’m going to rescue the pope from Uncle
Odo.’
‘Before you go, Robert,’ the solid figure of the Duke of
Brittany placed itself in my path, ‘tell me something. Did your father withhold
the crown of the English from you because of this?’
I looked him in the eye. A bit rough was Allen, but sharp.
‘It did not help… that’s all I know.’ I left to find Odo, and
in truth, that was all I knew.
After a few days, when the
great and good had finished with their intelligence-gathering, bargaining,
wheeling and dealing – and attempts at flirtation – we set off for Rome in
three parties. Firstly the pope and his never-ending retinue, skirts and banners
flapping in the breeze, followed by Matilda and her troops, armour and
standards flying, then I came along behind with my northern cavalcade with my
standard and gonfalon held high – and of all that display of pomp only mine
were bound for Jerusalem.
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