Sir Robert Faulconbridge to William de Mandeville
Posted: Wed Sep 01, 2021 2:52 pm
To William, the Earl of Essex, his liege-man Robert Faulconbridge writes of his misgivings.
The day not wished for I believe is near upon us, my Lord, for the occasion of the coronation has created unlooked-for domestic strife for your servant. Where the boys were uninterested in their early years with talk of kings and great doings, yet the stirrings of the more robust ages of youth and the thrum of enthusiasm for the sight of the new king now coursing its way through the vales of Essex--indeed, of all England--have conspired to ignite a spark of desire most unquenchable in their minds. Many other sons of knights and barons will be in attendance, and I cannot verily say "no, Philip, you cannot go, for a reason that I must keep from you. And no, Robert, through no fault of your own, you must remain here while your playmates travel freely and in safety to Westminster.
I know the risks, and if I did not, Lady Faulconbridge has rehearsed them to me enough that it would sink into even the thickest skull. But surely my lord understands that these arguments ring hollow? How can these boys grow into men when they are kept in close? What future will they have without the society of their fellows? I must bring them with me, or be no father. I pray that you understand, and can give your blessing.
Your servant,
Robert
The day not wished for I believe is near upon us, my Lord, for the occasion of the coronation has created unlooked-for domestic strife for your servant. Where the boys were uninterested in their early years with talk of kings and great doings, yet the stirrings of the more robust ages of youth and the thrum of enthusiasm for the sight of the new king now coursing its way through the vales of Essex--indeed, of all England--have conspired to ignite a spark of desire most unquenchable in their minds. Many other sons of knights and barons will be in attendance, and I cannot verily say "no, Philip, you cannot go, for a reason that I must keep from you. And no, Robert, through no fault of your own, you must remain here while your playmates travel freely and in safety to Westminster.
I know the risks, and if I did not, Lady Faulconbridge has rehearsed them to me enough that it would sink into even the thickest skull. But surely my lord understands that these arguments ring hollow? How can these boys grow into men when they are kept in close? What future will they have without the society of their fellows? I must bring them with me, or be no father. I pray that you understand, and can give your blessing.
Your servant,
Robert