A Crusader with System in the Middle Ages

In the end, William lost the chance to see his own curse fulfilled. He didn’t survive the second night.

A sorry episode occurred during this time. A few of the old king’s loyal knights returned to Chester Castle to gather his personal effects, only to find the fortress had been stripped bare.

On the very first night, Hugh had taken his riches and departed from Chester. Rumor had it he intended to leave England entirely, not even returning to Normandy.

Once the war was declared over, the knights garrisoned in the castle saw the old king off and promptly set out for home through the night. They hadn’t seen their homes in three months, and the war had left them deeply in debt.

The north was no pleasant place for any Norman, and the knights were desperate to return home to their wives.

Thus, only a few servants who hadn’t yet managed to leave remained in the castle.

Thieves crept upstairs, ambushed and murdered the few remaining servants guarding Chester Castle, and burst into the rooms.

They looted the treasure chests, hauled away the wardrobes, and tore the weapon racks from the walls. Not content with that, they stripped the corpses bare and dragged the blankets from the beds. It was the most profitable job they had ever pulled, and they vanished without a trace.

Nine years ago, the Normans had razed the prosperous Chester City to the ground. Now, at last, vengeance had been served. The thieves were smug, their consciences clear.

The knights who remained loyal to the old king were devastated. They kicked in the door of every house and hovel outside the castle walls but returned empty-handed. Then, they learned a tunnel had been discovered, leading south from the castle’s basement.

They tracked them through the tunnel but found only an old leather belt and a boot with a broken heel. Everything else was gone. They were too late; the thieves were long gone, and the King’s fortune with them.

To restore a shred of dignity to the old king, his knights rummaged through their own meager possessions.

One produced a clean linen shirt, and another offered a woolen cloak.

A third offered an unworn pair of shoes, while another contributed a precious ring and a wooden carving to replace the stolen scepter.

They intended for these items to become the tale of the old king’s relics, not the story of their theft.

Puzzlingly, the thieves had discarded William’s sword, though they had taken its ornate scabbard and the belt with its exquisite silver buckle.

"He will use it," one of the Knights said, "to expand the borders of Heaven."

His companions couldn’t tell if the remark was born of admiration or sarcasm.

They preferred, however, to believe it was the former.

On the morning of the third day, the King’s remains were carried from the upper hall and laid in the castle’s small chapel. It was the proper place for him, and one of the coldest rooms in the fortress. William might have craved warmth in his dying moments, but it would do his corpse no good.

In fact, the honor guard at the vigil had to be relieved every hour, which was all they could stand. Outside, it was raining. The downpour grew heavier, soaking his hair and the clothes on his upper body.

Eventually, Robert dismissed the impromptu honor guard entirely. He sat alone outside the door, watching the rain for the rest of the day.

That night, the small chapel was lit by a dozen sputtering candles. A thin, cross-shaped sliver of light filtered through the window above the altar. When the Knights peered into the room, they saw—or imagined they saw—a trickle flow from William’s left nostril.

The blood only began to flow when Richard bent to gaze upon the corpse, and it stopped the very instant he turned to leave. For those who trusted their own eyes, the meaning was clear: the victim had named his murderer.

Eric had refused to act as the officiating priest for the funeral; the irony would have been too great.

But few people lived in Chester, and it took the Knights three days to find a reasonably qualified Priest from Shrewsbury.

"Let all mourn for him, as a Monarch of England, and even more so as a Duke of Normandy.

His life brought boundless glory and riches to Normandy. He was the first conqueror in Europe since Emperor Otto.

More than a century ago, his ancestors came from the north in pursuit of wealth and glory. They forced the great Carolingian Royal Family to yield, seizing vast, fertile lands along the Seine Riverfront, and eventually all of Neustria.

Nine years ago, with that same determination and Courage, he seized lands far more vast and wealthy than those of his Viking ancestors and donned a glittering golden Crown.

A legendary adventurer, a valiant Duke of Normandy, an arrogant Monarch of England. The Anglo-Norman Kingdom he forged with his own hands shall endure, and the name of the Conqueror shall be remembered forever.

And so, may the almighty Lord of Heaven, the eternal God, the Creator of the world, forgive him his sins, his grievous sins. To this end, I beseech the ever-virgin Virgin Mary, the Angels, the Saints, and you, my brothers in faith, to pray for this lost lamb to the Lord, our God.

May his soul be cleansed by the Lord and ascend to Heaven, to be immersed in the eternal love and mercy of the Lord of Heaven, transforming the darkness of death into the dawn of life.

At the same time, may the Lord grant Courage and faith to those who have lost their kin, that they may find certain hope, and have the sacred Power of God to face the days ahead, and may they rejoice in the hope of sharing eternal life with their loved one." The Priest’s voice, thin with age, sounded somewhat ethereal. It seemed to stretch on, echoing slowly through the chapel.

Robert remained silent, merely kneeling and rising, repeating the motions. Finally, he stood beside William, as if murmuring a prayer.

After reciting the prescribed prayers, the old Priest placed the Bible in William’s hands. Then, the six Knights who had remained loyal to the old king lifted a silk cloth and draped it over his body.

And just like that, William’s era was over.

According to English custom, the King’s remains were to be buried in Westminster Cathedral. The Norman Knights, however, all believed he should be interred in Rouen or Caen.

In any case, William would not be buried in Chester. Besides, the north had brought the old king too much suffering in his life.

Three days later, Robert returned to London from Chester.

News had arrived from Normandy: Mann and Persh had fallen. The one leading the charge was none other than his brother, William Rufus, and the King of France was supporting his claim to the Normandy Duchy.

Eric did not follow Robert to London. Instead, he returned directly to his own fiefdom, Gloucester. He had already sent Leif and Hessin back to Gloucester with his Warband, ordering them to conscript local levies, grant out military fiefs, and build a fleet.

Of course, he had also asked the Earl of Hereford to keep an eye on them, lest the two novices make a mess of things.

His and the Earl of Hereford’s forces would act as the vanguard, heading out first to reinforce Normandy.

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