Chapitre 90: Chapter 90: Family Misfortune
After a day of the tournament, John returned to the Duke of Leinster's palace. He had no desire to stay at Phoenix Castle.
Back at the palace, John quickly shed his heavy clothing. These garments, though luxurious and finely crafted, were incredibly cumbersome. Luckily, the cool autumn weather in Ireland prevented him from overheating.
"Put these clothes away and send them back," John instructed a servant.
The servant nodded and quickly departed. However, as the servant reached the corner, he suddenly tripped and fell. John's attention was drawn to the scene, noticing the servant apologizing profusely. Once the servant moved on, a mysterious figure emerged from the corner.
It was Rolf's sister, Helena.
"Your Highness, I have something to discuss with you..." Helena seemed to know how awkward her appearance was, her face showing a hint of embarrassment.
"What is it?" John asked, curious. "Shouldn't you be at the theater troupe right now?"
Helena lowered her head, looking guilty. "Yes, Your Highness. But I came to ask you about a knight."
John's curiosity grew. "Which knight are you talking about?"
At this question, Helena's face suddenly turned red. She always seemed to be this shy.
"The knight who defeated many opponents in the tournament today," Helena said. "I can't seem to find him...so I need your help."
The answer was obvious. Helena was looking for Pierre.
John suddenly recalled how Rolf had gone to great lengths to send Helena to him. But now, Helena had set her sights on someone other than her intended target.
However, John wasn't one to jump to conclusions.
"Do you have any ideas?" John decided not to return to his room just yet. "I mean, how do you plan to arrange a meeting?"
Helena seemed startled by John's proactive attitude. She stammered for a long time, unable to form a coherent sentence.
She seemed unaware that John's playful side had been piqued. This situation reminded John of helping his friends with their romantic pursuits back in high school, albeit now in a medieval setting.
John said seriously, "Think about it, Pierre doesn't know you. You need to come up with a reasonable way for you two to meet and talk. Do you have any ideas?"
"No," Helena shook her head like a drum. It wasn't her fault; in this era, few people enjoyed the freedom of love, and they were mostly men. A daughter of a minor lord like Helena had never even considered such things could happen to her.
However, John's unseen mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine, likely had plenty of experience with romantic freedom.
Seeing Helena had no ideas, John had to say, "If that's the case, I'm afraid I can't help you much. But, if you take the initiative, you might..."
"What if I send him a congratulatory gift? How about that?" Helena cautiously suggested.
John snapped his fingers in wholehearted agreement. "Of course!"
Helena's newfound confidence seemed like a shot of adrenaline. She instantly became more spirited, a stark contrast to her previously timid self.
Watching Helena leave happily, John felt as though his life had gained a bit more enjoyment.
...
On the other side, Henry II felt as if he might faint from anger. His favorite son, in the empire's most perilous time, had chosen to remain a bystander. Moreover, when Henry sought his aid, his son even demanded land as compensation. Unbelievable.
Henry II, despite ruling the entire empire, couldn't fathom what his son was thinking.
"Doesn't he realize that if our territory is divided, it will become very vulnerable?" Henry II's tone was unnaturally calm despite his extreme anger. Only those very familiar with him, like old Roche, could sense the profound rage hidden beneath the surface, akin to the depths of the ocean.
When he finally exploded, it would be like a tsunami, destroying everything in its path.
The conference hall fell silent; no one dared speak.
Henry II said, "I won't accept this. If Geoffrey can't resolve the Rouen crisis, then send Richard de Lucy to London to assemble a force and send them to Normandy to support Geoffrey."
"But Your Majesty, the autumn storms will hinder our troops," Forger said.
No one expected him to say something Henry II least wanted to hear at that moment. Predictably, Henry II jumped up and gave Forger a resounding slap. The slap echoed loudly in the silent conference hall.
"I don't want to hear any damn excuses! William landed in England in autumn! He managed to crush the Saxons; why can't we do the same? What use are you to me? What use?" Henry II shouted hysterically, silencing everyone, who dared not move a muscle.
No one expected this immensely powerful monarch to resort to rage to mask his weakness. The shrewd observers realized that Henry's once-proud empire was being gradually destroyed by his own sons.
Over the past few years, almost no external enemy could shake Henry's rule. But his sons managed to do it.
First, his eldest son, Young Henry, caused turmoil in Anjou, almost causing Henry to lose his homeland. Then there was Richard, relying on the queen's support and the wealth of Aquitaine, directly opposing the king. His third son, Geoffrey, was utterly useless, languishing in Brittany, entirely unreliable. Henry II initially thought his youngest son, John, would be obedient. But now it seemed that he was even worse than his brothers.
These detestable individuals were actually Henry II's sons.
"I fathered such a brood! Every day, they think about how to tear a piece of flesh from me! They don't see me as their father at all!"
Watching Henry II rage, the knights around him also silently mourned. Having such sons was truly a family misfortune.
After shouting, Henry II felt exhausted. He was now old, no longer the young man with endless energy. With Old Rochester's support, he dragged his feet out of the room, while Forger, who had been slapped, kept his head down, lost in thought.
Back in his room, Henry II slowly sat down on the bed. Old Rochester stood silently by his side.
"Your son hasn't come to see you in a long time either, has he?" Henry II said slowly. "Now, we're both lonely old men, Rochester. Who would have thought?"
Old Rochester nodded. "Indeed, Your Majesty."
Henry II closed his eyes. "I need to rest for a while. You may leave. Follow through with what I said earlier—have Lucy gather an army for us."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
As Old Rochester left, he gently closed the door. Henry II could finally enjoy a moment of peace, temporarily isolated from the entire world.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone