Pawns and Queens--a 15th Century Gwynedd Story--Chapter Thirty-Six

[Evie]

Previous chapter: https://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php/topic,3275.0.html


Chapter Thirty-Six

September 29, 1464
The Battle of Baynham
The Duchy of Haldane
Kingdom of Gwynedd
Late Morning

When the combined Nördmarcke and Eistenmarcke forces crested the low hill just beyond the outlying fields of the town of Baynham, they had not expected to see the King of Gwynedd's army approaching them from the near distance, but judging from the enemy column's reaction, they had not been expecting to see King Torval's and King Haakon's armies arriving from their current direction either. Both armies swiftly formed battle lines despite still being nearly a mile apart, for there was little sense in either side attempting to set up a war camp first with the other ready to move in for a kill.

If both armies were equally tired from having marched several miles already under cover of darkness and, in their own army's case, magical protections, then at least neither side was yet so exhausted that it was unable to mount a reasonable defense against the other. They had not reached the higher and more defensible terrain yet that King Torval had been hoping to find, but at least the current location offered the Gwyneddan forces no particular advantage either, having just crested a low ridge on their side of the meadow between them as well, but one that was barely higher than the flat meadow itself. Torval supposed they could simply sit in place and watch each other warily all day, but he preferred to get this battle over and done with. If he won, Gwynedd would be his. Well, his and Eistenmarcke's, but he had plans for his two unwanted allies already. If he lost...well, either he'd survive to fight another day, once he could rebuild Nördmarcke's strength, or he would die here on Gwyneddan soil, his cause lost, but at least he wouldn't be around to see Ingrid and Haakon squabbling over it like vultures picking over a bone. Perhaps his heir could take Gwynedd from them in another generation, even though that would pit brother against brother, should Ingrid's unborn child survive.

He wondered briefly how his little bird fared and if his unborn child by her had managed to survive. He hoped so. Torval's chief regret in all this was that he had not been able to do better by the girl. He could never have offered her marriage–she would have made a most unsuitable queen–but he wished now that he had simply packed her off to Tolan or Netterhaven to await his return, rather than delivering her into the hands of the Eistenmarckers who had ended up brutalizing her with their barbaric customs. Even if he'd ended up dying on this foreign soil, Cécile would have had a better life in Nördmarcke than in Eistenmarcke or Joux.

As for Rémy of Joux, he was well rid of that annoying prick. Had Torval been the praying sort of man, he would gladly have lit a candle or two in memory of King Cinhil, who had been a most admirable foe.

The boy-king Haakon rode up, smugly pleased with himself, even though contrary to his boasts, only roughly a third of his men had chosen to follow behind his banner after all, the rest remaining behind with the Konungamóðir back at Rhemuth, unwilling to risk her wrath by following their young king before he had reached his full age of undisputed and proven manhood. He had done much during this war to try to win the approval of his hirðmenn, and for the most part had managed to do so, but while the boy might now think himself a man full grown, the undeniable fact remained that he was still only thirteen and apt to be impatient and headstrong, only heeding the council of his mother and his hirðmenn when it didn't contradict his own rash desires.

Those latter qualities made Torval think it should be an easy enough matter to be rid of the lad by simply allowing him free rein to indulge his natural impulsiveness. He had been useful for a time, but having helped to bring Gwynedd to heel and now starting to have more lofty ambitions of his own, he had now outlived his usefulness.

"You've done well, young friend," the King of Nördmarcke praised his younger peer. "How would you like to take center stage in today's battle? I will lead from the right flank, if you will lead the center. Your man Björn can lead the left flank, if you think you can spare him from your side, since the Count of Czalsky is still recovering from his injuries from our last battle. No shame if you don't feel ready to lead on your own yet; I can designate someone else."

Haakon looked pleased by Torval's faith in his abilities. "Of course I can lead the center on my own! My men will form the wedge."

"Or the pincers, if Kolya of Gwynedd forms the wedge first. But either way, I'm certain everything will turn out just fine." Torval smiled at the younger king. "I know your mother will be delighted to hear about your day of glory upon our return to her side."

#

September 29, 1464
The Battle of Baynham
The Duchy of Haldane
Kingdom of Gwynedd
Early afternoon

King Haakon found himself in the thick of the fighting, but he was not afraid. His hirðmaðr Snorri carried the Raven Banner before him, his fifth banner-bearer so far that day, and as long as the banner continued to fly proudly above his ranks, he would be invincible. His mother's magic would see to that.

The mists that were meant to protect his army had long since dissipated now. Haakon wasn't sure if the enemy was using magic of its own to dispel the illusions, or if he and Torval had simply moved their army beyond the Konungamóðir's area of influence. It mattered not, though. The Raven Banner provided protection enough.

Enough for him, at least. Haakon watched as Snorri fell beneath an enemy's sword, but even as the banner began to fall from his lifeless hand, another hand lifted it up, for the Raven of Eistenmarcke was loath to touch the ground. He felt no particular sadness for Snorri's fate. The man would feast at Valhalla that night; what was there to be sorrowful over?

The men of Gwynedd eyed his banner with fear, for it was evident to them that it bore powerful magic. How else could the black raven woven into it seemingly come to life on its own, flapping its wings high overhead as it flew proudly ahead of him?

The center of the enemy forces formed the classic pincers formation around his own, but that bothered him little, for Torval's flank would crush one side of it and Bjorn's flank would crush the other, while at the center of it all he would continue to slay the foemen, blooding his sword so freely that none would dare think him a mere boy, unable to lead men, after this day's work!

The sixth banner-bearer fell. Haakon couldn't even recall his name, but he was too distracted to try to call it to mind just then, for unaccountably King Torval's flank withdrew, leaving him fully exposed. On his other side, he saw Björn try to maneuver closer to protect him, his features twisted with rage, calling out some imprecation Haakon couldn't hear over the din, but knowing his uncle's vocabulary it was likely something fittingly vile. He laughed, spurring his horse deeper into the fray, thirsty to quench his sword with more enemy blood, although someone finally managed to kill his horse out from under him, forcing him to leap out of the saddle as it fell and fight on foot. He was surrounded by the enemy now, but the bloodlust coursed through his veins, singing its siren song. The seventh banner-bearer fell, the Raven Banner fluttering as it plummeted towards him. Instinctively he reached up to break its fall, hoisting it up in celebration of his victory.

He never saw the arrow that pierced his heart.

#

September 29, 1464
The Eistenmarcker war camp
Outside the Rhemuth City walls
Early afternoon

Queen Ingrid could not shake the conviction that her new husband was not to be trusted. He cared little for her son, although most of the time he treated the boy courteously enough. She had come to know Torval well enough to recognize the look of contempt that occasionally lurked in his eyes despite his best attempts to hide it behind his usual veneer of charm.

So why had he been so ready to invite Haakon to ride out to battle with him? Had it simply been due to her own reluctance to lead the Eistenmarcker forces away from their present position now that Rhemuth was theirs for the taking? She knew he dared not take on the King of Gwynedd's army without their combined forces, but had he truly expected that her men would all desert her just to follow the lead of a thirteen-year-old who, though battle tested and somewhat better prepared for leadership than most boys of his age, was still not mature enough to be King in truth as well as name?

She decided it would be best to keep a close eye on them in their absence. After all, she had run out of thralls to aim at the City residents, and she was growing bored with little here to do besides make sure the Gwyneddans didn't attack what remained of her war camp, but she still had sufficient hirðmenn here to mount an able defense if they did.

Ingrid poured some water into a basin, placing it at the foot of the high throne-like chair on which she did much of her seiðr work. She donned her ceremonial garments, calling on her shield-maidens to guard her, and once they had formed the requisite circle of protection around her, she cast a handful of hemlock seeds onto the brazier and took her place on her chair. Her maidens began their chant-song, the steady rhythm and the rising smoke helping her to slip into a light trance.

As she allowed her mind to enter the altered state of being, she focused her gaze upon the basin, using it as a mirror to reflect back what was happening on the battlefield.

Haakon was acquitting himself well, she noted proudly, remembering the lessons Björn had taught him. Sigmund would have been so proud to see his son coming into young manhood in a manner befitting a strong king's heir. Though where Sigmund's brother Björn was, she could not see. Haakon's uncle ought to have been close by among his hirðmenn, but he was not. Had he fallen to some enemy? It seemed unlikely, but Ingrid felt a small pang of misgiving nonetheless, though the sight of the Raven flying over Haakon reassured her that all was still well.

Haakon suddenly looked distracted, and when he turned his head, she noticed why. Torval's men had dropped back. At first she thought they had come under some unexpected attack, some enemy ambush coming at them from the side, but then she saw the King of Nördmarcke give the order to retreat, abandoning her son to the enemy surrounding him.

The Raven faltered briefly, but someone caught it. It flew proudly above her Haakon's head once more. The horse faltered, then fell, her son leaping to the ground, though he continued to fight, the Raven giving him courage and protection, until once again it dipped towards the ground, only to be caught once more and held aloft.

It was Haakon's gloved hand that held the banner high. Ingrid moaned as she felt the arrow that lodged in her beloved son's heart.

#

September 29, 1464
Between Baynham and Rhemuth
The Duchy of Haldane
Kingdom of Gwynedd
Late afternoon

The Eistenmarcker forces retreated when the boy-king fell, King Torval's men withdrawing from the battle also, for with the Eistenmarckers' departure, their forces were quite outnumbered by the combined forces of the King of Gwynedd and the Duke of Corwyn. Prince Camber's men were thankfully nowhere to be found, but Torval suspected they lay in wait to catch the retreating armies by surprise, unless they had continued on to Rhemuth instead and were keeping his Queen well occupied there.

The battle had been going reasonably well for them until Haakon's death, although even then the victory had not been quite as assured as Haakon had seemed to assume, but Torval could not bring himself to regret ridding the world of him. As much as he hoped to occupy Gwynedd someday, he had no personal animosity against the kingdom or its rulers. He had come to hate the Eistenmarckers more.

#

King Nicholas of Gwynedd gave the order to pursue, but from a distance. His men needed rest, he knew, but he could not afford to give the enemy time to disappear again, melting into the countryside and prolonging the war into the late autumn and winter months. He wanted an end to this, and he knew Camber's forces should be nearby now, hopefully with fresher troops should Torval decide to engage them once again before setting up camp, though surely the Nördmarckers must need their rest soon also.

He sent Corwyn's and Prince Alarikos' forces up ahead. He and Cassan would follow soon thereafter, leaving the battle train with the priests and the field medics to tend to the wounded or administer the coups de grace should they be needed. Once the dead had been buried, hopefully with some assistance from the nearby town of Baynham, they could catch up later.

"Sire!" Sebastian called out from the field of battle. "I think the Eistenmarcker King is dead."

Nicholas wheeled his horse around. His mount picked his way across the field of wounded and dead bodies, blood, and gore, towards the squire who stood over one particular body, warding off others with his spear held protectively above a crumpled piece of fabric on the ground.

"Be careful, Your Majesty," his squire warned. "That's the Raven Banner. Even grounded, it's full of lethal power. I think it would be best to bury that, or perhaps burn it, along with any implement used to touch it. Definitely don't try to pick it up!"

He was close enough to see the lad's face now, far less arrogant in death than he had been in life. The King of Gwynedd felt a wave of tired sorrow mingled with his anger. What sort of king might this young warrior have become, had he been raised to a different sort of life and made different choices? No one would ever know now. Bloody hell, he was so sick of war! It had to end; his own sons needed a future brighter than the one this boy never got.

"Inform the priests; they'll know the best way to cleanse and dispose of the thing," Nicholas told his squire. "And we'll take the boy with us. I'm sure his mother will want his body back."

#

September 29, 1464
The Eistenmarcker war camp
Outside the Rhemuth City walls
Early evening

Did her dear husband want to learn firsthand how the Northmen fought when in full battle rage? He was about to learn the hard way.

Ingrid strode out of the pavilion, grabbing the first hirðmaðr she encountered. "Bring me a pig," she ordered. "Preferably one roughly Torval's size."

"My lady?" he questioned, startled.

"You heard me!" she snarled. "We do have one somewhere in the camp, don't we? If not, then bring a sheep, a goat, I don't care what, just as long as it's roughly the right size, alive, and very soon about to not be!"

"Yes, Konungamóðir!" The man scurried off to do her bidding, fear in his eyes.

Ingrid re-entered the pavilion, rummaging under her camp bed and pulling out a small coffer containing several lidded pots and a mirror. She dipped her fingertips into one pot, using them to paint bold streaks of color onto her face in preparation for the battle ahead. Torval thought he was accustomed to warfare, but he had seen nothing yet.

Dipping a quill into another pot, she began to paint runes onto her arms. That task completed, she opened another box, pulling out some eagle feathers and beginning to braid them into her hair, for she was Ingrid Ørnensdatter, daughter of eagles.

She hummed as she prepared for the evening ahead.

Someone entered the pavilion hurriedly, sketching a low bow. "We've found a pig, Konungamóðir! What did you wish to do with it?"

"Gather as many men as are needed to hold the pig upright, lashing it to poles if you need to. I will be out shortly."  She looked around, wondering what she might create a small circlet from, but her eyes landed on something even better–one of Torval's travel circlets, made of tooled leather. That should serve for his crown. She doubted it would fit a pig, but it didn't have to actually stay on the creature's head, just touch it briefly.

"Gunnhild, lend me your spear," the Konungamóðir ordered. Her shield-maiden on guard at the pavilion entrance complied.

Her men were nearly done securing the pig, which squealed loudly at their rough handling of it. She made one circle around them, beginning to focus her mind on her objective, muttering a low chant as she completed the first circuit, then the next. The third time around, she stopped in front of the terrified swine, handing Torval's leather circlet to one of her men. "Put it on his head, or at least touch the top of it with this," she told him.

The man complied. "Now what, Konungamóðir?"

Ingrid smiled, lifting her spear and slicing it across the hog's belly with one swift stroke, sending its guts spilling out from its body cavity.

"So it shall be for you also at the dawn's light, Torval of Nördmarcke," she whispered.

#

September 30, 1464
Two miles northeast of Rhemuth
Duchy of Haldane
Kingdom of Gwynedd
Dawn

Torval's men had caught up on sleep as best as they could while on the march, each unit falling to the side to rest after leading the column, while the unit behind them took the lead, the entire column passing the resting men by until the entire line had nearly passed by them, whereupon the slumberers by the roadside would join the tail of the column, eventually moving forward towards the head again. Such a means of travel did not allow the leisure of long naps, but it did ensure enough to keep the column moving until they could reach camp again. Outlying bands of scouts rode on either side of the line to ensure there were no signs of ambush from either side.

Not too far behind them, the King of Gwynedd's forces were doing much the same. Torval knew this, which was one reason he decided to keep his army moving, although he was leery of continuing all the way to Rhemuth, not wanting to be cornered there in the position that he had left Rhemuth in the first place in order to avoid.

He found his Queen and her Eistenmarckers waiting for him two miles closer than he had expected to find them, arranged in battle lines, the men wearing bear-sarks and beating on their shields. His herald raised his battle standard high in greeting. Torval, on the other hand, immediately recognized the danger. His wife was not here to join him in battle against the King of Gwynedd. One of them would likely die this day.

Ingrid's army was fresh. His was caught between the hammer and the anvil. Torval knew it would likely take a miracle for him to win this day.

He was not a man who believed in miracles.

#

September 30, 1464
Three miles northeast of Rhemuth
Duchy of Haldane
Kingdom of Gwynedd
Half an hour after dawn

"Bloody hell, Sire, it's a bloodbath!" Sebastian handed the spyglass to the King, since even enhanced Deryni vision was not quite sufficient to see what was happening in the far distance aside from the obvious fact that a fierce battle was occurring almost directly ahead of their column.

Nicholas called for his men to halt. After their swift pursuit of the Torenthi and Eistenmarcker forces from the field near Baynham, coming directly after a pitched battle, they would be at a serious disadvantage if they were to join in with the fighting at this point. It appeared to him that the Nördmarckers and Eistenmarckers were now at war with each other, and while the collapse of that alliance was certainly welcome, having it happen in front of his nose and between his army and his capital was also rather inconvenient.

Nicholas raised the spyglass to his eye. The Eistenmarcker force, outnumbering the Nördmarckers by at least a third now that they had rejoined with their brothers-at-arms who had remained behind with Queen Ingrid, appeared to be on the verge of completely overcoming their former allies. Their front lines were still strong, although here and there many of their warriors were falling from their injuries, but they appeared to have the disquieting ability to ignore even the gravest of wounds long enough to inflict more before blood loss rendered them incapable of standing and fighting anymore. It was as if they had lost all ability to feel pain, and therefore continued fighting for much longer than the average soldier could have remained on the field of battle. No wonder the bear-sarkers were so feared!

On the Nördmarckers' side, many of the soldiers had already broken ranks and were beginning to rout. A small, stalwart knot of men continued fighting courageously around their King and banner, but it was clear to the King of Gwynedd that Nördmarcke's cause was already lost. Even as he watched, the Eistenmarckers who had been held in reserve were already beginning to take the field, not to join the fray, because the men in the line already had that well in hand, but to loot the corpses, killing some of the fallen who were not already dead, and dragging a few off to the side, where they began stripping them of their armor, performing a vile desecration of their bodies that had Nicholas nearly losing what little remained in his stomach from his last meal.

Lord Geoffrey lowered his own spyglass at that. "It's the Blood Eagle. Those must have been some of the highest ranked Nördmarcker officers."

Nicholas wanted nothing more than to retreat to a safer distance, set up camp, and sleep like the dead for the next eight hours. But he could not allow even a man such as Torval of Nördmarcke to suffer such a fate while he simply stood back and watched. He lifted his hand, about to order his men to advance, when he realized something had changed in the scene before him. He lifted the spyglass once more just in time to see a glint of sunlight flash from King Torval's crowned helm as the man toppled to the ground.

An armored figure on a pale horse raised a gauntleted hand. Nicholas was too far away to tell for certain, never having seen her in armor and helm, but he surmised this was Ingrid of Eistenmarche, for the others swiftly rallied to her side, riding away and leaving carnage in their wake.

#

September 30, 1464
Two miles northeast of Rhemuth
Duchy of Haldane
Kingdom of Gwynedd
Morning

The short delay had enabled at least part of Gwynedd's baggage train to catch up with the rest of the army after their burial duties outside of Baynham. They had arrived just in time to assist with arranging for a final resting place for a large number of the Nördmarcker soldiers.

Gwyneddan priests wandered through the field looking for those who were still alive and coherent enough to make their confessions if they so chose and receive the last rites. Others who were clearly beyond any hope of physical salvation if not spiritual were taken off the field, collected in one spot next to where a large pit was being dug for a mass grave. Field medics tended to those who had some hope of recovery, though there were few of those, for the Eistenmarckers had been swift to ensure anyone who had fallen would not be getting back up again in future. Therefore, most of the Nördmarckers who had survivable injuries had been discovered sheltered under the body of another comrade in arms who had not been so lucky.

Nicholas picked his way through the fallen, intending to save anything that had not already been looted from King Torval's body and send it back to his heir in Nördmarcke, a mere boy of thirteen or thereabouts, when he realized that Nördmarcke's ruler was not yet dead. He was quite clearly mortally injured–indeed, Nicholas could not imagine how he had survived even this long–but although he ought to have bled out before the Gwyneddan army arrived on the field, somehow he had not. Nicholas wondered if this was Ingrid's fell magic at work, and if he'd been meant to find Torval in this state as some sort of warning.

"It seems I am not going to get my wish after all," said Torval with a twisted smile that contorted into a grimace of pain. "You get to keep your kingdom, Kolya, at least if you can manage to rid it of my bloody wife and her rabid wolves."

"I would rather you had given up your aspiration before things ended up this way," said Nicholas quietly. "I can call a priest for you, if you wish, but I'm afraid you're beyond a field medic's abilities. If you want the coup de grace...."

"Of course I bloody well want the coup!" the enemy king gasped, his voice catching on what sounded almost like a short laugh. "I don't need a priest, just someone to end my pain, because Ingrid has almost certainly given me the sort of wound that can't be healed but that won't allow me to die without assistance. She would want me to suffer as long as possible, damn her hide!"

Nicholas surveyed the deep abdominal gash, contaminated by the muck and gore of the battlefield, and the organs threatening to spill from the body cavity. He was forced to conclude Torval's assessment of his wound was likely correct. Drawing his sword, he asked, "Is there anything else you would say or have me do before I give you the coup?"

Torval drew another shallow breath. "There are two letters inside my breastplate. One is for Aleksandr, my heir. The other is for Cécile. Does my child still live?"

Nicholas sighed. He was not at all sure that delivering a message to Alixa's sister from her former lover was in the girl's best interests, but he saw little harm in answering Torval's question, under the circumstances. "She does. You will have a daughter in just over a month's time."

Torval closed his eyes. "Poor little birds. You seem like a decent enough man, Haldane. Don't return them to Renier, he's a revolting swine." He took another ragged breath. "Strike cleanly, King of Gwynedd.  I am ready."

Next chapter: https://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php/topic,3281.0.html

[DoctorM]

Nicely done!

[Evie]

Nicely done!

Yay, I'm glad you liked it! This was one of the hardest chapters for me to write, because while I can do messy human relationships all day long, battle scenes and military strategy details are super intimidating for me to write. I was on the verge of popping into your message inbox or Drakensis's several times to beg for help, but then I remembered that large battles of this sort were really not a common sort of occurrence in a medieval war so much as the hit and run raids and skirmishes were, and even a siege wasn't non-stop assault so much as waiting your enemies out and cutting off their supplies while giving them as much grief as you can in the meantime. But Queen Alixa wasn't the only one repeatedly thumbing through De Re Militari while trying to visualize the battles on the war front! 

[DerynifanK]

Amazing! I did somewhat regret Torval's death. Of all the villains, he was the most interesting. I'm sure he regretted his alliance with the  Eistenmarkers. Hope Nicholas can now rid Gwynedd of Ingrid and her barbarians and peace can return. Since the protective mist hiding the enemy disappeared I assume Nicholas'weather working was successful. Very well done

[DerynifanK]

Wonder where Ingrid has gone and if she will live to return to Eistenmarke and deliver her and Torval's child. You are a very talented writer,. I know because every chapter leaves me with so many questions.

[Evie]

Amazing! I did somewhat regret Torval's death. Of all the villains, he was the most interesting. I'm sure he regretted his alliance with the  Eistenmarkers. Hope Nicholas can now rid Gwynedd of Ingrid and her barbarians and peace can return. Since the protective mist hiding the enemy disappeared I assume Nicholas'weather working was successful. Very well done

I'll admit to having had a soft spot for Torval, even though he's really far from an admirable role model. He had just enough decency in him that he could have made a good king if he'd made different choices along the way rather than allowing his ambition to make him greedy. Hopefully his heir will learn from his example what not to do.

Wonder where Ingrid has gone and if she will live to return to Eistenmarke and deliver her and Torval's child. You are a very talented writer,. I know because every chapter leaves me with so many questions.

Oh, Ingrid is not that far away. She is pretty much pinned between Nicholas's army and Rhemuth, in the area between the Molling and Eirian Rivers, and Camber's forces are closing in on her location as well. So in order to escape them, she would have to be able to slip past both forces somehow, though as we all know, Ingrid has lots of tricks up her sleeve, so despite the odds against her, she wouldn't be giving up all hope just yet. So Nicholas and Camber will need to remain very alert.

Of course in the meantime, other interesting things are also soon to be happening in Rhemuth, so there's that to look forward to as well. 

[Demercia]

It's hard not to have a soft spot for a villain whose author gives his dying regret concern for Cecile and her child. Another fabulous chapter.

[Evie]

It's hard not to have a soft spot for a villain whose author gives his dying regret concern for Cecile and her child. Another fabulous chapter.

Yeah, Torval might be a thoroughgoing git in some ways, but he does have the capacity to care for someone besides himself. Infrequently exercised though that capacity might be, it does still exist, and Cecile brought out at least some of his better side. If only he had leaned a bit more heavily on that side of himself throughout his life!

[Demercia]

Perhaps Nicholas could send a covering letter when he forwards on the letter to Aleksandr, with a few hints as to statecraft, and really checking potential allies out first.  I wonder who his regent will be, presumably not Ingrid.  I guess we'll have to wait for the sequel to find out who she appoints as her heir, if she lives that long!

[Evie]

Perhaps Nicholas could send a covering letter when he forwards on the letter to Aleksandr, with a few hints as to statecraft, and really checking potential allies out first.  I wonder who his regent will be, presumably not Ingrid.  I guess we'll have to wait for the sequel to find out who she appoints as her heir, if she lives that long!

We still have two more chapters (and an epilogue) to this story, so you should at least get to see if/when our heroes manage to catch up with Ingrid.

[JudithR]

Ingrid's Regent - or am I wrong?  So the child she's carrying wouldn't be in the succession - I though it was a boy but could easily be misremembering.  Is the mention of an uncle relevant? 

[DerynifanK]

I have to say I do wish Monday was closer. So hard to wait. But I hope you have a great weekend. As hard as you work you really deserve it.

[Evie]

Ingrid's Regent - or am I wrong?  So the child she's carrying wouldn't be in the succession - I though it was a boy but could easily be misremembering.  Is the mention of an uncle relevant? 

Ingrid is currently Regent for Eistenmarcke, yes. I don't think she would be for Nordmarcke, since I think Torval would have picked a relative back at the capital who would also be serving as guardian for his heir Aleksandr. (Just because he married Ingrid for the marriage alliance doesn't mean he ever found her trustworthy, even at the beginning of their alliance, so I don't see him letting her be Regent for Nordmarcke and legal guardian for his heir.) Since Ingrid is also Torval's Queen now, in theory her son by Torval would be in the Nordmarcke succession after his older half-brother, assuming that child survives. Granted, if young Aleksandr finds out that Ingrid had a part in his father's death, he may have some strong feelings about that.

Haakon died without heirs, so the Eistenmarcke succession is likely to pass to the nearest male relative (Bjorn, as Haakon's uncle and the late King Sigmund's younger brother, would be the likeliest successor, if he survives the war), or if there are none, it might pass to the nearest female relative, though she might need to be married to someone the Althing thinks is strong enough to hold it. But at the moment Ingrid and Torval's child is not in any succession since he's not born yet. And if Ingrid and Bjorn should both die, I imagine there might be a fair bit of jockeying for power back in Eistenmarcke, especially since I don't think they observe strict primogeniture there. Whoever seems to have the best claim would probably still have to meet the approval of the people at the next Althing.

I have to say I do wish Monday was closer. So hard to wait. But I hope you have a great weekend. As hard as you work you really deserve it.

Thank you! I am really looking forward to having four days in a row off next week!

[DerynifanK]

Ingrid's Regent - or am I wrong?  So the child she's carrying wouldn't be in the succession - I though it was a boy but could easily be misremembering.  Is the mention of an uncle relevant? 

Torval said Ingrid was carrying a son but this son would not be in the succession for Eistenmarke at least I don't think so. If it goes through the male line and Haakon was the only son, it should go to the next oldest brother of the king. I am assuming it was the uncle who was in the battle but not sure about that. Ingrid's child by Torval, if it is a son, would be in the succession for Nordmarcke after Alexandr I think. Figuring all this out could give someone a headache.

[Evie]

Ingrid's Regent - or am I wrong?  So the child she's carrying wouldn't be in the succession - I though it was a boy but could easily be misremembering.  Is the mention of an uncle relevant? 

Torval said Ingrid was carrying a son but this son would not be in the succession, at least I don't think so. If it goes through the male line and Haakon was the only son, it should go to the oldest brother of the king. I am assuming it was the uncle who was in the battle but not sure about that. Ingrid's child by Torval, if it is a son, would be in the succession for Nordmarck after Alexander I think.

Exactly correct. Of course (if all parties survive) Ingrid also had her eye on being Queen of Kheldour by right of conquest, so if she achieves that aim, she would be able to pass Kheldour down to this second son. Of course, as her allies keep dying off, that dream is growing less likely for her.