The Youngest Prince Of The English Royalty House [EN]: Chapter 135

135. Someone’s Sister (3)

There was discord at Mary’s funeral Mass.

The issue was that Princess Mary’s biological mother was Queen Eleanor, the current Queen of England.

Much like the Yesong Dispute [a political debate regarding mourning rituals] in the Joseon Dynasty, there was a Mass Dispute brewing between France and England.

The root of the problem was Philip II, who was usually so composed.

‘I am Princess Mary’s younger brother.’

He brought up the funeral issue with this declaration.

Philip II wanted to hold the funeral Mass for his sister at the Basilica of Saint-Denis and bury her remains there. It was a symbolic place, practically the French royal family’s cemetery since the time of the Franks.

[That place is only for queens and kings who have Frankish blood. There are no exceptions.]

However, at that time, it was mostly only queens and kings who could be buried there, and it was only in modern France that royals were buried in Saint-Denis. Thus, many nobles opposed burying a married princess in the Frankish cemetery.

[Even if she was a French princess, we cannot enshrine the daughter of our great Queen of England (Eleanor) in the vile Frankish hall.]

Moreover, the English nobles also argued that even if they were practically strangers, it was not right for the biological daughter of their great Queen (Eleanor) to enter the French burial ground.

In the end, Mary’s funeral Mass was held in Champagne. As the youngest of my half-siblings, I attended the funeral Mass.

Safety had to be ensured in everything. Surrounded by escort knights, Mary and I rode on horseback instead of taking a carriage.

My wife was worried about the children left in the territory.

“Is it okay to leave the children as they are?”

I smiled at her and said,

“Reliable James and loyal vassals are protecting them.”

“That’s true.”

James is now the eldest, protecting his younger siblings, and the loyal vassals are guarding the castle well.

‘Besides, if the lord attends a funeral Mass, betraying him would mean certain death. There’s no one around with that kind of nerve.’

“But it’s a family funeral Mass. Shouldn’t our children attend?”

“We need to draw a line. I’m going as Princess Mary’s half-brother, so it’s unrelated to our children.”

“You’re right, our children don’t need to go.”

In medieval Europe, where the maternal line was not considered except in special cases, half-siblings with different fathers were more distant than half-siblings with different mothers. There was no need for my children to go to Champagne.

In fact, Safe Zone didn’t need to go either, but I had to attend Princess Mary’s funeral Mass for several reasons.

First, although my relationship with Princess Mary was distant, I had received help from her.

In life, Princess Mary and I occasionally helped each other and exchanged letters. Half-siblings with different mothers are often more awkward than half-siblings with different fathers. However, to the outside world, Princess Mary was a royal who supported me. Therefore, Safe Zone, who knows gratitude, could not miss the funeral Mass.

Second, because of my mother.

I was curious how my mother would react to her eldest daughter’s funeral Mass. How would that cold mother think of this? Would she cry normally?

“Are you spacing out in front of me?”

“It seems that as time goes by, my wife becomes more and more beautiful.”

“That obvious flattery… Your family is so tangled. Your family.”

“We’re no different.”

Both Mary’s Komnenos family and our Anjou family are dysfunctional, always ready to stab each other in the back if given the chance.

We hurried along the road and arrived at Champagne Castle.

“Has our youngest son, our youngest daughter-in-law arrived?”

―Yes, Mother.

My wife and I could see our mother’s outwardly indifferent face.

My mother looked at me, her youngest son, for a moment, then said with a pained expression, as if she were chewing on raw turnips.

“Your eldest sister has passed away like that. Before her mother.”

“I, too, am deeply saddened by the passing of my eldest sister, who secretly supported me.”

I sympathized with her grief.

Soon after, I was able to meet my nephew, Count Henry of Champagne, who was the same age as me.

“Count of Champagne, it’s regrettable that we meet on such a heartbreaking occasion.”

“Princess Mary was special to our couple as well, so I hope the Count of Champagne will recover quickly.”

After listening to our couple’s condolences, my nephew, who was the same age as me, handed me a letter.

“This is a letter that my mother left for her little maternal uncle.”

“Thank you.”

I say that, but it’s probably not just a simple letter, but a will.

* * *

―Champagne Estate, Reims Cathedral―

―Lord! Hear our prayers.

The 12th-century medieval Catholic funeral Mass was long. But it felt short to me.

Why is that? Is it because I wasn’t that close to Mary? Of course, I wasn’t that close to my sisters. So much so that my brothers Geoffrey and Henry, who returned to the Kingdom of Jerusalem, were closer.

Then what is the reason?

It’s because of the will that my sister left me.

[John, my beloved youngest. As your eldest sister, I have never given you a gift filled with family affection, only political gifts. So, I will leave my property to my son Henry and my daughters, and give the rest to you as well. This is a gift that I give you without expecting anything in return.]

Why now? Is it because she’s worried about the power struggle between the Count of Champagne and my second-in-command position? Is she telling me to take care of them more?

Anyway, as I was thinking that, the last part of the funeral Mass was approaching.

“Let us pray. Almighty God, we beseech you, that by this sacrifice we may be cleansed of our sins and enjoy the eternal joy of the resurrection. Through our Lord Jesus Christ.”

“Amen.”

“Let us pray. Lord, as we celebrate the Paschal Mystery [the suffering, death, and resurrection of Jesus] for your servant Princess Mary, who has departed this world, we beseech you to receive her into the land of light and peace. Through our Lord Jesus Christ.”

“Amen.”

With this, the funeral Mass for Mary, who was a princess of France, ended. My eldest sister Mary is no longer in this world, and there is no way to know her true feelings forever.

‘Eldest sister, I will accept the gift. Be happy there.’

Now she will go beyond the Jordan River, where King Louis VII is. Or maybe she will live the next life like me.

Anyway, the atmosphere was very stiff the moment I left Reims Cathedral after the funeral Mass.

“….”

Perhaps it’s natural. Most of the people who came to this funeral Mass were French and English royalty. The two countries don’t get along.

It was Queen Eleanor, our mother, who broke this atmosphere.

“Sob…”

Queen Eleanor shed hot tears like a normal mother who had lost her child.

―Drip, drip.

Large tears fell onto the floor.

She cried so sorrowfully that even the French and English people who were engaged in a power struggle were taking notice.

Frankly, I understood my mother’s feelings. Wasn’t Princess Mary the first child she had? But what I felt was, isn’t this affection too late? And I wondered, is that really sincere?

Because the mother I had seen while living was more political and calculating than anyone else.

“Your Majesty, you must calm down.”

Everyone was worried.

“Mother, are you alright?”

“Oh, my son Richard. And my daughter-like Sibylla.”

Soon, my most reliable brother Richard and sister-in-law Sibylla approached with worried looks, but my mother.

“That’s enough. The person who needs comfort now is not me.”

Even though Richard and his wife, who could be said to be the powerhouses of England, came, my mother turned her gaze to another side. The target of that look was Countess Alix of Blois.

She is a princess born between Louis VII and my mother, just like Mary. Well, if she had a conscience, she would have to be more mindful of that side, right?

My mother approached Alix, a middle-aged woman who was looking at her with cold eyes, and said,

“Alix, won’t you look at your mother’s eyes?”

“Ah, yes. The. Great. Queen of England. Your Majesty.”

But as expected, Alix’s expression was cold. Well, I thought I would make that kind of expression if I were her.

“Ha, I didn’t say anything because you even came to the funeral Mass. Why are you talking to me? Do you have a conscience? I don’t want to have my time wasted unnecessarily. You abandoned us to marry a man 11 years younger than you.”

“I didn’t abandon you. There were just unfortunate things that happened.”

“You should have said that a long time ago… Sigh, son, let’s go back to the territory.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Alix’s words were her expressing anger at why her mother, who had an affair with Henry II and ignored her daughters Mary and Alix, whom she had with Louis VII, had the audacity to come to the funeral Mass.

The Count of Blois, another grandson of our mother, also didn’t want to see the ugly appearance of his maternal grandmother, so he immediately escorted his mother into the carriage.

“….”

My mother was properly hit by the karma she had created.

My mother’s real karma was not only having an affair with Henry II, but also using her first-born daughters politically without giving them proper affection.

‘She only wrote letters when she could use her daughters with Capetian blood diplomatically, saying they could be a security risk. Our mother is cruel, so cruel!’

“Richard, I think we should go to Normandy.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Sigh, John… I’ll be going now. You should go back quickly too.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“John, I’ll be going now. Mary, take care of my younger brother.”

“Duke of Aquitaine, Duchess of Aquitaine… Our daughter Adelais is growing up well. We will prepare for the engagement soon.”

Since we only meet occasionally, there wasn’t much to talk about with my brother Richard and his wife.

My mother must be thinking of going to the Normandy territory to talk with Richard and his wife and heal. But if her mother-in-law comes often, her daughter-in-law will be very annoyed.

After my mother and brother left, an unexpected person spoke to me.

“It’s been a while. Duke of Aquitaine.”

“It’s a pleasure to see you, Your Majesty the King of France.”

The expression of the King of France, Philip II, who must have had many bad thoughts about me in Saco di Paris, was calm. Is it because Princess Mary’s funeral Mass is over? Or is it because he has other intentions?

But since it has come to this, it wouldn’t be bad to have a serious conversation.

As Philip II said, Princess Mary, the protagonist of this funeral Mass, is the sister of both me and Philip, isn’t she?

But why is he using honorifics?

* * *

“Is your youngest son’s name Louis?”

Philip II’s tone became polite. I don’t know why, but I felt that he was thinking of me as a serious opponent.

“I want to have my son Louis betrothed to a princess of France in the future.”

“Hahaha.”

Philip II laughed heartily. His laughter was so hearty that it reminded me of lager beer.

“Duke of Aquitaine, I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“I guess I didn’t tell you when I was openly hostile to you… But now that I think about it, there’s one thing I feel wronged about.”

“What is that?”

“I was not the one who instigated the rebellion in Mortain in the past.”

“What did you say?”

Philip II said to my question.

“Now that I have been plundered of Paris by you, do I need to lie? It was not me who ordered the plundering of your territory and the causing of strife.”

“Then who is it?”

The Mortain incident. The incident where bandits and native nobles troubled me as soon as I took office as a novice lord. Then the culprit is.

“I don’t want to break the Anjou family’s friendship by telling you.”

No wonder he was using honorifics. This human is doing the same thing as England again.

“Hahaha, I see.”

But I just laughed. I won anyway.

After talking with Philip II, I returned to the Aquitaine territory. And time passed again.

Seven years after Mary passed away.

“John, I think we’re getting old. It’s already James’ wedding.”

“I guess so. I’ll be a grandfather soon.”

Soon I’ll be Old John.