Chapter 69: Holding the Line

Letters, like snowflakes, scattered from Leicester. The Flanders mercenaries, who had been on standby in York, began to mobilize and converge on Leicester.

Young Robert was brimming with confidence, feeling that his plan was flawless this time.

When the news of the rebellion reached Anjou, King Henry II felt like his head was about to explode. Meanwhile, King Philip of France had gathered his troops and reached Vexin, attempting to launch an attack on Normandy.

Another massive siege was underway.

"John has no preparations on his side; we might be doomed," the usually strong Henry II now felt a sense of collapse. "He only has a small contingent of personal guards, and we're up against treacherous nobles, the King of France, and a prince who is always scheming for rebellion."

Henry II's illegitimate son, Geoffrey, tried to console him, "It's alright, Father. We can get through this. Once we handle things here, the English nobles will naturally surrender."

At this moment, Henry II retained a sliver of rationality, causing him to nod in agreement.

Among his sons, only his illegitimate son Geoffrey and John had never betrayed him. He couldn't understand why, the more he tried to grasp power, the further it seemed to slip away.

"The English nobles are a bunch of cowards. Their confidence stems solely from Richard."

Such words, if spoken by other ministers, would be considered treasonous. But Geoffrey, being Henry II's son, could say them without fearing for his life.

"If you had only one heir to the throne, these nobles wouldn't be considering whom to support. Right now, they're using the uncertainty of the heir to the throne as an opportunity to seek benefits for themselves."

Geoffrey's words grew increasingly radical, fueling the unnamed fire in Henry II's heart.

Suddenly, Henry II slammed the table heavily and then swept everything off it to the floor, roaring like a wild beast out of control.

"It's all because of this damned luck. Thomas, even after your death, you won't let me go!" Henry II shouted. "Geoffrey, tell me, what have I done wrong?"

Geoffrey didn't dare to answer.

Henry II continued his hysterical rant, "I've fought and worked to protect this country. When have I ever stopped to rest? I've been fighting since I was thirteen, never pausing for a moment. And now, everyone hates me, everyone wants to betray me. What exactly have I done wrong?"

"These damn nobles, when I return to England, I'll chop off all their heads and kick them like footballs, use their heads as chamber pots! And Richard, that ungrateful son, it's like I've been cursed to have him as my child!"

"Father, please calm down..." Geoffrey stepped forward, trying to soothe his father.

But Henry II was beyond listening: "I've had enough of this, these bastard nobles, every single one of them, ungrateful dogs. If anything happens to my John, I'll kill them all!"

Hearing John's name, Geoffrey's lips twitched slightly. Indeed, Henry II spoiled his youngest son too much, and Richard would certainly be furious about it. But what could Geoffrey say? He was just a bastard son, needing to curry favor with the King to gain even a modicum of power.

"Geoffrey, return to England now. Find Lucy and have him gather the troops to rescue John, as quickly as possible."

Slightly calmer, Henry II began to organize matters urgently. After all, merely raging wouldn't solve the problem; he had to address it step by step.

After Geoffrey left the room, Henry II slumped into his chair, as if this could grant him a moment of peace. 

He knew his actions wouldn't save John. But he was even less willing to believe that praying would save his son. His only hope was that Geoffrey's actions might make the English nobles restrain themselves a bit. 

At the very least, not harm his son John.

...

John, of course, had no knowledge of Henry II's furious outburst and breakdown. But if he did, he might have laughed out loud. After all, he had managed to discreetly mobilize a considerable force without the King realizing what was happening. 

This secret maneuver could be considered a resounding success.

The envoys sent from Derby to find Edward had been captured and were now being tortured in the dungeon. They revealed a lot of information, such as the collusion between the Earl of Derby, William, and young Robert.

And then there was their mercenary force in York. Indeed, they had chosen a good time. If they delayed any longer, the English Channel would soon face autumn storms, making it impossible for Henry II's continental army to return to England.

These guys were indeed cunning, but they couldn't match John's incredible luck.

"Your Highness, are you sure you don't want us to perform?" Hubert was feeling a bit uneasy. 

It was only after arriving here that he realized he was just a decoy. This made him somewhat disappointed. He hadn't expected John to use him in such a way, but he dared not say anything.

John, of course, had no time to read his thoughts and simply nodded, acknowledging that Hubert was right.

"The person I truly need is you, Breton," John said to the general beside him. "We have three thousand troops on hand... much fewer than when we were in Ireland, but it's more than enough for a defensive battle."

Breton nodded and said, "We can strengthen the city defenses here and see if we can launch a preemptive strike to catch the enemy off guard."

Hearing Breton's suggestion, John's eyes lit up. It was clear that Breton's independent combat abilities had improved. However, John wasn't prepared to give him the freedom to act. In this kind of internal conflict, John was already in a favorable position, so there was no need to rush.

"The most important thing for us is stability. As long as we can stabilize the situation, those participating in the rebellion will start to doubt themselves and eventually collapse," John explained. "So, if we can maintain stability, the rebels will fall apart on their own."

After hearing this, Breton thoughtfully nodded in agreement.

John continued, "First, let our troops garrison the various castles, hold their positions, and wait for reinforcements."

"But if we do that, our consumption will be significant," Breton added. "Constantly holding out without any action could severely impact our supplies and morale."

As Breton voiced his concerns, John turned to look at him. 

No matter how superior John's military strategies or how refined his art of war, he couldn't manage everything personally. He was a ruler, not a general, and couldn't devote all his energy to warfare.

"The order I give you is to hold your ground. It's your responsibility to handle the other matters," John said firmly, leaving no room for argument. His decisive tone silenced Breton, who dared not say anything further.