Edwin woke up from the tower, sweating and surrounded by darkness.

He knew that the serious-looking Frank was still outside, and he could smell the scent of the "jailer"—a bastard without a manhood.

But such a bearded woman was now trapped by a knight like herself, Edwin spat in exasperation.

"What about the oathbreakers?" A familiar voice came in, and those people had been calling Edwin by that name all these days.

"Sleep like a baby...... someone said outside.

And then there was silence, a never-ending silence.

The Tower of London stands on the banks of the river like an ancient tomb with famous swords and horses. All the lords who are still in the royal city know that this tomb inhabits the bane of the kingdom.

The war has reached the mainland, but the Southern Sain are "resting" in the winter camp of the Count of Northumbria, according to the law, it is indeed the season for the Sain to train, but everyone is worried about one thing: their homeland will be destroyed by the enemy.

The enemy was not on the other side of the sea, Godwin's son was in Exeter, and no one knew if the city had fallen, and Westminster seemed to have accepted the inevitable loss of Exeter: since the Earl of Walcioff on the Isle of Wight did not support the rescue, the city would be lost sooner or later.

What's more, Exeter was the base of Godwin, and the royal power of Wessex could not erase the memories of those southwest Sein.

Moreover, Walsioff's worries were not superfluous at all, and in the absence of the king, were those Sain on the Isle of Wight still reliable? Wouldn't they have rushed to the Norman camp out of fear for their families? After all, twenty years earlier, these Sain had been at war with the Northerners under the Duke of Normandy, and many had even experienced that Yorkian winter.

The silver-mirrored cuirass hung from the stand, the sharp V-shaped ribs held a thick neck guard, the owner of the armor locked his forehead, and the face of a warrior showed the exhaustion of a prophet.

"Does the queen want to make peace?"

"Yes, my lord."

I should have thought of it a long time ago.

Volsiov was not suspicious of the queen's true loyalty, he just didn't think the plan could succeed.

The Franks had already choked the kingdom by the neck, and Walciov and Rodrigo were the only defenses left, like two rings on a pair of chain mail, which were getting looser and looser under the bite of steel.

The flames were devouring the wood, the cold stars were unfathomable, and the lights in the tent made the Count feel small.

If it was Rodrigo, what would he do?

The warlord thought of it in a hurry.

After all, the lord is only a lord, and in the face of the king's choice, no matter how noble the count is, he is just a pawn, and Volsiov's pain may come from recognizing his position.

In the same mood as him was poor old Ansgar, who had changed since Prince Edmund had abandoned his army and returned to the palace, and that sad appearance of a lost soul could not even be seen by his former subordinates.

The prince left behind his attendants, and the young men fell into the same confusion, including Sigbert, the eldest son of Count Rodrigo.

Something that made Ansgar blame himself even more soon happened, because of the inaction of the fleet, the Normans and Godwin's sons landed on the shores of the kingdom, and this time, there was no more prince to use as an excuse, after all, he no longer had a prince to protect. In fact, the old man had only one breath left, and his only motivation to survive was to wait for Westminster's punishment, but this punishment was delayed, so he became more and more desperate.

No one knew who was really to blame, and it was clear that the prince's abandonment of the army was not without reason, but the consequences of these events were a series of disasters.

Not so long ago, the shores were filled with the joy of victory, and no one doubted that what awaited the kingdom was inevitable victory and more glory.

"You must meet the king!" Old Ansgar confessed to his son with a residual breath, "Make sure that every ship of supplies here reaches Normandy." ”

Harding wept as he responded, afraid to think of tomorrow, which might mean death.

His deepest fear was when he saw the king's body in Normandy, and when he returned to Dover, he saw his father again.

Maybe you won't be able to come back at all? Who knows what the Normans would do to themselves?

Harding didn't want to know the future, at least for today he was safe, and his father was still lying in the fortress in the strait, still breathing.

He passed by a girl in a castle whom he vaguely knew: the cook's daughter, who had bled ...... The lord's son suddenly felt an impulse:

The cow will die, the blood relatives will die, and I will die.

When the girl left Harding's room, she had an extra cherry-colored bruise on her left eye, and she returned to her mother in the kitchen, like a kitten returning to the nest, secretly licking the scars on her body.

Her mother was already drunk, and the other cook saw her appearance, but did not ask anything, for this kind of wound, the question can only be exchanged for a lie, and only silence gives the truth.

The lord's son is just an ordinary samurai, with the brutality of the northerners in his blood, and a northern samurai will not regret being the daughter of a cook, only when this girl gives birth to offspring may inspire a similar feeling - the strong cannot bear the weak offspring, because it is their saddest shadow.

Perhaps, Robert of Normandy was disgusted by his father because of this.

Robert of course didn't want to admit it, but he knew it in his heart, and even Uncle Otto admired William Lufus more, because the latter grabbed whatever he wanted, whether it was a castle or a woman.

But Uncle Otto is behind himself.

Robert smiled wryly, the lion doesn't like to work with his own kind, and that's probably the only explanation. Robert did not consider himself a lion, he was a descendant of a lion, but he did not have the claws of a lion, so the ambitious lords wanted to see him as their master.

Edgar is also a lion, so he also wants to see himself as the master of Normandy.

Robert knew it all, but he didn't have the ferocious cunning of Lufus by nature, he was greedy, lustful, and irritable, but he wasn't an oath-breaker—not yet.

Philip's temptation was at hand, and Uncle Otto suggested that he swallow it in one gulp, perhaps even the fingers of the king.

But that's a lion's suggestion, and Robert isn't a lion.

I'm alone! Robert let out a tragic roar from the bottom of his heart.

Blood will be exchanged for blood, loyalty should be rewarded with loyalty, let the beasts laugh at my foolishness, I will not devour the flesh and blood of a friend.