Reggio, A Crusader Kings AAR - Chapter 4: And Roger begat...
LJ Cut for Length and Pictures.
I am ashamed at the passage I am about to relate, for these actions are not ones I would have widely publicized, but in my candor on these pages I cannot in conscience omit them. I merely state that my anger at the Duke of Apulia and my beautiful Judith's inability to bear me a son, an heir, drove me near unto madness.
My brother's attempted betrayal wounded me to the core. I could never let my title have a chance of devolving to him. My options were few. Murdering him would bring me satisfaction, but the blood of a kinsman on my hands would leave my soul tainted. For all his intentions, my brother had not actually managed to betray our blood, and only a fool would punish people that had not proven without a doubt to have committed a crime.
Should I then murder my wife and find a suitable young noblewoman to sire an heir with? No! In the name of God, no! No amount of anger or rage could cause me to raise my hand, much less a knife, against her. She is the light of my existence.
That then left me only one option. I must sire a bastard child and overcome my own pride, and the scorn of my peers, and work to make him my legitimate heir. I have said a prayer every day since I made my decision, a prayer for my soul, and that God would foster forgiveness in both Judith's heart, and that of my son's. I shall never forgive myself.
And so in the days after my conquest, I let peace reign. The jewel of Sicily, Palermo, is far too wealthy and strong for my army to take, and my own coffers are far too empty to pay for another crusade.
Time passed. I watched my daughters grow up. They're as beautiful as their mother. Wars raged. The Romans and the Seljuk Turks in the East, the Iberians and the Moors in the West, the Germans against themselves. So many lived put to the sword, and all the while, the Shiekdom of Palermo grew ever richer and my armies grew stronger.
March. March 1070. My Spy Master brought me a girl. She had been a courtier in the County of Capua until my brother the Duke invaded. Our sister and her husband had found refuge in the County of Leicester in England. This poor girl was not so fortunate. She told me what had happened to her family, and to her. Only fifteen and my brother had- Never mind. It was suitably unchristian of him.
I told her what I wanted to do, how it would keep my land out of the Duke's hands. She readily agreed, before we had even begun to discuss any renumeration. Soon enough it was obvious that she was with child. My Spy Master sent her to Syracuse, to live in a small manor in the lap of luxury. No expense was spared on her, and for the rest of her life she never knew want, or fear, or pain. At least as far as until these words were written, and I pray to God almighty that he receive her into his care after a long and pleasant life. She deserves nothing less.
My son was born on the following New Year's day. When I heard the news I rushed to see her and him. She was in good health and had come through the labor with little pain or injury. And my son was magnificent. I let his mother name him. She chose William, after her father and his father before him, all fine Normans I'm told.
When I returned home, I went into reclusion for a week. I fasted, I prayed, I wept. And then I saw the most frightful vision. An Angel of the Lord appeared before me. He had that accursed book of prophecies and he opened it and pointed to the third prophecy. I saw the words, inflamed upon the page. They burned themselves into my soul. I knew how my end would come.
O vast Rome, your ruin approaches
Will be found in the temple of the Vestals
It will be seized and plunged into the Vat
When three brothers will be wounded and murdered
I am ashamed at the passage I am about to relate, for these actions are not ones I would have widely publicized, but in my candor on these pages I cannot in conscience omit them. I merely state that my anger at the Duke of Apulia and my beautiful Judith's inability to bear me a son, an heir, drove me near unto madness.
My brother's attempted betrayal wounded me to the core. I could never let my title have a chance of devolving to him. My options were few. Murdering him would bring me satisfaction, but the blood of a kinsman on my hands would leave my soul tainted. For all his intentions, my brother had not actually managed to betray our blood, and only a fool would punish people that had not proven without a doubt to have committed a crime.
Should I then murder my wife and find a suitable young noblewoman to sire an heir with? No! In the name of God, no! No amount of anger or rage could cause me to raise my hand, much less a knife, against her. She is the light of my existence.
That then left me only one option. I must sire a bastard child and overcome my own pride, and the scorn of my peers, and work to make him my legitimate heir. I have said a prayer every day since I made my decision, a prayer for my soul, and that God would foster forgiveness in both Judith's heart, and that of my son's. I shall never forgive myself.
And so in the days after my conquest, I let peace reign. The jewel of Sicily, Palermo, is far too wealthy and strong for my army to take, and my own coffers are far too empty to pay for another crusade.
Time passed. I watched my daughters grow up. They're as beautiful as their mother. Wars raged. The Romans and the Seljuk Turks in the East, the Iberians and the Moors in the West, the Germans against themselves. So many lived put to the sword, and all the while, the Shiekdom of Palermo grew ever richer and my armies grew stronger.
March. March 1070. My Spy Master brought me a girl. She had been a courtier in the County of Capua until my brother the Duke invaded. Our sister and her husband had found refuge in the County of Leicester in England. This poor girl was not so fortunate. She told me what had happened to her family, and to her. Only fifteen and my brother had- Never mind. It was suitably unchristian of him.
I told her what I wanted to do, how it would keep my land out of the Duke's hands. She readily agreed, before we had even begun to discuss any renumeration. Soon enough it was obvious that she was with child. My Spy Master sent her to Syracuse, to live in a small manor in the lap of luxury. No expense was spared on her, and for the rest of her life she never knew want, or fear, or pain. At least as far as until these words were written, and I pray to God almighty that he receive her into his care after a long and pleasant life. She deserves nothing less.
My son was born on the following New Year's day. When I heard the news I rushed to see her and him. She was in good health and had come through the labor with little pain or injury. And my son was magnificent. I let his mother name him. She chose William, after her father and his father before him, all fine Normans I'm told.
When I returned home, I went into reclusion for a week. I fasted, I prayed, I wept. And then I saw the most frightful vision. An Angel of the Lord appeared before me. He had that accursed book of prophecies and he opened it and pointed to the third prophecy. I saw the words, inflamed upon the page. They burned themselves into my soul. I knew how my end would come.
O vast Rome, your ruin approaches
Will be found in the temple of the Vestals
It will be seized and plunged into the Vat
When three brothers will be wounded and murdered