February 775. King Thurcytel, Infancy. Sælred Sælredsson regent, and the king's grandfather. Naïve Appeaser, Humble, Chaste, Patient, Slothful. General pattern: whatever will offend the fewest people, and take the least effort. His guardian: Mother, Gisela. Tought Soldier, Cynical, Paranoid, Cruel, Diligent. Will drive me hard. Carries a claim to the Kingdom of Francia.
I made Bishop Eadsige the court physician, as the slow fever stalks the land. He’s brilliant, well-educated, will know how to keep us safe from the plague, but also wouldn’t know a backstabbing plot if it bit him, so that’s good.
May 776: We open the gates. The plague has passed. Just in time, too: King Karl of Francia has sent a herald, asking that, as my king and he are of one blood, we may form an alliance. I cannot say no. No sooner have we sworn this alliance, than the herald says “Good, now join our war against the Saxon rebels. I cannot say no! Though I doubt very much that any Essex man will set foot on our ancestral Saxon lands.
October 776: I have a new son, my king’s uncle. He is a sickly infant, may the Lord protect him. I have had him christened Swithræd. This month I have sent my king’s chancellor to Kent, where I believe he will find evidence that the Offings have ancient claim to that land.
January 777: My king’s uncle, King Karl of the Franks, sends word that the Saxon rebels have forced him to sue for peace. I cannot help but think that if I had sent men to aid his cause, this might have been otherwise.
May 779: I have had another son, christened Ordgar. He looks stronger than his brother. At least I am not cursed with only weak sons.
August 779: The King of Pictland has asked for my daughter-in-law’s hand in marriage, my king’s mother and guardian. At least they are Christian, but I cannot say yes. She is needed here. Her son needs her.
All Hallows’ Eve, 779. My king is five years old, and has fallen ill. I worry for his soul.
January 780: I, Wulfred of Barton, have been appointed the new regent for our king. (Brilliant Strategist, Dull, Paranoid, Wroth) I do not know why.
May 780: My king has regained his health. God smiles on my regency.
July 780: The priests tell me I am possessed. I have no other explanation for the things I feel, the thoughts passing through my head.
September 782: I have outmaneuvered that simpleton and devil-curst Wulfred, and gotten myself appointed regent. I am Beorhtmær of Maldon, Spymaster to his highness King Thurcytel of Essex. (Thrifty Clerk, Ambitious, Diligent, Craven, Cruel)
February 784: Bishop Eadsige, physician and chancellor, died while searching Kent for records. I have appointed a new chancellor, but still seek a suitable physician.
March 784: Good news! I have found a Jew whose medical knowledge is renowned, they say, from Cordoba to Constantinople. I have secured his services for a criminally small sum. I do not know what he is fleeing that he will stay in our court for such a sum, but I am glad of it.
May 784: King Karl has called us to war against the Umayyads. We dare not refuse, before the eyes of God and man. But will a single man of ours set foot on Spanish soil? I think not.
March 785: Our chancellor has found the evidence his predecessor sought: the Offings do, indeed, have ancient claim to Kent. We must act on this at once.
April 785: King Karl has agreed to reciprocate and join our war for our claim on Kent! Joyous day.
May 785: We have routed them at Colchester. May God aid us!
June 786: Tzemach the Phyisician is earning his keep; as we lay siege to Dover, my king has fallen ill. Tzemach says it is the influenza, and has given him a good course of treatment.
November 786: We meet the Kentish men again in battle at Dover, and route them. We were too late to save our Frankish allies, though, who were driven into Surrey.
February 787: I fear that my king is growing into a horror of a man. He is young yet, but manages to combine cowardice and cruelty in the worst of ways. Other children fear him.
March 787: We have won! The Kentish men are forced to surrender, and own that God is with us.
March 787: A black day. My king is dead. He has drowned in a boating accident. His grandfather, Sælred, the old regent, is now king. Long live the king.