A Crusader with System in the Middle Ages

William needed to be buried as soon as possible.

To Eric’s surprise, though the villages surrounding Rouen had been pillaged and burned by the King of France’s army, Rouen City itself was relatively peaceful. Its citizens had held out to the end for their merciful and magnanimous ruler, for the glory of Normandy, and for the autonomy Robert had promised them.

From the high towers of Rouen Cathedral, the bells tolled, low and resonant. They rang for the great Conqueror, who now lay in a lead coffin beside the tomb that would preserve his remains until the end of the world.

It was a moment that called for sorrow, yet few shed any tears.

The aged Archbishop of Canterbury, Lanfrank—Conqueror William’s mentor and dear friend—stared at the open lead coffin and the waxy face of the man he had served for so many years. He let out a long breath.

The ordeal was almost over. Beneath the sorrow, he felt a wave of relief, as if a great weight was about to be lifted from his shoulders.

Little Henry showed no grief, merely picking at his fingernails and scuffing the toe of his shoe on the flagstones. Rufus just watched, not saying a word. Incidentally, he was still bound.

Robert seemed much calmer now. Beside him stood his Queen, the young Christina, who was Edgar’s sister. And of course, there was Edgar himself, who spoke no French and was currently passing off strangely accented English as French, hoping to make others think he was mourning earnestly.

And... the Queen Mother, Matilda of Flanders.

This was likely the first time Eric had seen the Queen Mother. She was quite short, with brown hair and bright brown eyes. Today, she wore a mulberry-colored gown, the fabric looking as if it was all cut from a single cloth. Her hair was held back in a net of golden jewels.

In the soft glow of candles and torches, Matilda looked much younger than her forty-four years. The color of her robe complemented her complexion, making her hazel eyes, which glinted with light, seem even brighter.

She held the hands of two girls about Little Henry’s age; given her short stature, she probably couldn’t have picked them up.

She appeared sufficiently sorrowful, but she shed no tears.

”What’s wrong with Father? Why is everyone so sad?” Adela, not yet eight years old, tugged on her mother’s sleeve and asked, confused.

”He has gone to a very faraway place. He is with God now,” Matilda said softly.

”Isn’t that something to be happy about?” Adela asked innocently.

”Perhaps,” Matilda said, stroking Adela’s head.

The Priest walked to the side of the coffin, removed his chasuble, and handed it to an acolyte. He then sprinkled the late King’s body with perfume and Holy Water before beginning to recite the Lord’s Prayer.

The congregation recited it with him.

Arno had not come; he and his father, Odo, had remained in London as regents. Belem, as Robert’s special envoy, had gone to Rome with gifts to have an audience with the Pope, accompanied by Anselm.

None of them were here, which made Eric feel a bit bored.

After the funeral, Robert came looking for Eric.

Robert pulled Eric into a room.

”Eric, you never disappoint me.” Robert clapped Eric on the shoulder. ”Now, it’s all over.”

”It is my honor, Your Majesty,” Eric said with a bow.

”In private, you can just call me what you used to,” Robert said, finding a chair for Eric.

Eric sat down and looked at Robert. ”Has all of Upper Normandy been retaken?”

”Yes, that trick of mine was quite useful. I hope you don’t mind that I learned from the best.” Robert pushed a pile of letters in front of Eric. ”Now the cities north of France Island are willing to submit to me. I want to hear your opinion.”

Eric quickly skimmed a few of the letters. ”Perhaps you shouldn’t be asking me. You should be asking your uncle, the Count of Flanders. You need to give him some benefits. However, the Weksan and Beauvais regions must remain in our hands.”

”By holding these two areas, Normandy has France Island by the throat. Beauvais is less than a day’s journey from Paris.”

”Indeed, I was considering that as well.”

”He won’t want land on France Island. Your uncle hates nothing more than unruly cities. Tell him you can cede a portion of the Picardy region to him. But knowing his personality, he definitely won’t ask for much.”

”You seem to know him well. Do you know him?”

”Only by reputation. Besides, if I’m not mistaken, he’ll be leaving Flanders soon. He simply doesn’t have the energy to manage newly conquered lands, especially since he recently acquired the Hainaut region.”

”You just need to show him a deferential attitude as his nephew, and bring a gift of money.”

”Where is he going?” Robert asked, looking at Eric with curiosity.

”Jerusalem. And if I’m not mistaken, he’ll have a Greek friend.”

”Sounds a bit mysterious. But I trust you.”

”Speaking of which, is there any news from the Pope?”

”That’s the second thing.”

”I hope it’s not bad news.”

”Absolutely good news. The dukes and bishops of the Empire have forced the Emperor to go to Rome and apologize to the Pope to have his excommunication lifted. If the Emperor dares to refuse, the dukes will renounce their oaths of allegiance to him.”

”It seems we don’t need to do anything. The Holy See has already won.”

”No, this is far from over. Do you think the Emperor will go to Rome alone?”

”You mean...”

”His father did it more than once.”

”I thought we might be able to save some money. Alright, in that case, you should prepare to go to Rome in a few days. As it happens, Belem also said in his letter that you should come. He seems to be in a hurry.”

”What? You’re not going?”

”We’re running out of money, my friend. You take eight hundred knights and go, just as you said, to show my stance. I’ll hold down the fort in Normandy. If things go south, I’ll attack Aachen directly.”

”Er... alright.” Eric felt a headache coming on. He’d been traveling nonstop for days and had actually been looking forward to a few days of rest and a chance to visit his own manor.

But since Robert had put it that way, he couldn’t very well refuse.

Eric was just about to get up.

Then Robert seemed to remember something. He picked up the letter again, reread it, and called out to Eric.

”Wait, Eric, I remembered it wrong. You’re not going to Rome, you’re going to Canossa in Tuscany. The Holy See and Belem are in Canossa now. They plan to receive the Emperor there.” After speaking, Robert showed the letter to Eric. The contents were illegible, but the drawings on it were striking.

Belem had drawn twelve flames, six hourglasses, and three figures of Mercury (the messenger god in Roman mythology, corresponding to Hermes in Greek mythology).

Although the three figures of Mercury were drawn so crudely they were almost painful to look at, it was clear that the sender was in a great hurry.

”So, you’d best set off quickly, Eric.”

”Alright,” Eric sighed.

’Don’t tell me that buffoon Belem got himself excommunicated by the Holy See for fooling around in a bathhouse.’

’The last thing I want is to go clean up his mess.’

Just then, Robert tossed something to Eric.

Eric caught it and opened his palm. It was a ring. A rather magnificent ring, with an amethyst set in the middle and intricate patterns carved into the golden band.

”I plan to make Rufus the lord of York.” Robert didn’t look at Eric. Before Eric could answer, he added, ”What else can I do? If I kill him, where will I find another brother? God would not permit me to do such a thing.” (The latter half of this line is a historical quote from Robert, which in reality he said to his younger brother Henry. At the time, Henry, who had no lands, rebelled against his two older brothers. When Henry hid on a mountain, Rufus wanted to burn the mountain down, but Robert said these words and persuaded Henry to surrender.)

”I hope you won’t regret it. But there’s nothing left of York now. Even if he wants to stir up trouble, he won’t get far. The Saxons and Danish there are full of hostility towards the Normans.” Eric dutifully said what Robert wanted to hear.

”Thank you, Eric. I can always count on you.”