Three (History Plays, Book 2)

12: painful traffic of my tender youth, might thereby be inflamed

Jon

Summer time is come again, as predictable as ever, yet still remarkable in its simplicity. Now it comes to my own estate, my own children are set free from the binds of school and classes, to wreak havoc on my house and sanity. I wouldn't have it any other way.
"You're up early," Ned says, wincing as he limps down to join me sitting on the steps of the wide porch.
"I never went to bed," I say, watching as our sons tussle in the yard. The boys were up god knows how early, and so I took a break from work to come and watch them. It does me good to remember the days when I was that young and all of life seemed an easy game to conquer.
"Hmm, that would do it," Ned coughs, a hand to his face. His face, though still young so lined with pain. I see blood on his hand as he wipes it on his jeans.
"No better then?"
"I'm dying Jon, I'm not getting better," he says, still breathing heavily. Dark curls cut short, now lined with grey as they stick to his face with sweat.
I shrug. I would happily defy God, but that's up to him. Instead I turn my attention to the boys, who are now shouting.
"Harry, I've told you to be nice to your cousin," I call, with no intention of getting up.
"It's good for him," Harry points his toy sword at his cousin who is on the ground, swearing.
"Richard, get back up, you'll be grand," Ned coughs, looking as though he wants the strength to go and help his son up.
"I'm fine, father—-fucking, cunt's whore breath, fuck" Richard says, climbing to his feet clearly in pain, his blond hair stuck together with mud, eyes flashing in anger as my unruly offspring charges him once again. They're not yet six, but Ned's boy curses like a sailor. People who aren't my ex-wife elect to find it funny.
"You ever wonder if god should have switched our boys, Ned?" I laugh, as I watch my Henry fiercely charge his slightly older cousin. My boy is all red hair and violence, he'd challenge Jesus to a spitting match if given the opportunity. The boy wears me out. I can't help but wonder if I wasn't meant to have a child who I so completely didn't understand. I just find him things to do and hope he doesn't hurt himself or others, that's about all I can do.
"Harry driving you mad is he?" Ned laughs, rubbing his bloody hand rhythmically on his jeans.
"He wears me out, he's constant, the boy hasn't met a man he didn't want to fight. I don't know what I'm gonna do with him or why the route violence and mania skipped a generation with me but I feel like I'm not handling him," I sigh.
"He's fine. You're doing your best by him, that's what counts. That's what dad'd tell you."
"Dad loves him," I scoff. That's because they're just the same. "The boy's temper is as red as his hair, it's like he's a firecracker turned into a person."
"He's only a boy, he'll learn. And he has all of us," Ned says, breathing heavily. His lungs are mostly gone, he's supposed to be on oxygen soon. Of course our father has ensured he has the best medicine money can buy, but the cancer is still spreading. It's just a matter of time. But then it's a matter of time for all of us.
"Harry, stop hitting your cousin now, you two are the best friends you'll ever have. And you must take care of each other," I call.
Harry ceases, reluctantly offering Ned's boy a hand to get up.
"How's he doing?" I ask.
"I don't know. He's quiet. Half the time I can't figure out what's going on in his head," Ned shakes his head, "I asked him how he felt, if he wanted to talk to me.  He just shrugged I don't—I think he's scared about me dying."
I nod, looking down at my cup of coffee as though it holds the secret to my brother's health.
"You'll look out for him, for me, won't you Jon?" Ned asks.
"Don't talk like that," I say, flatly.
"All of it is, everything after dad goes, goes to him. Edmund is just married I—you'll just look out for my Richard, won't you? I know he acts tough, and he's fierce as well if put to it, but he's a kind boy, he's not like you or I, he's not got your cleverness or arrogance, nor my cunning. He's himself and I wouldn't change him for the world but, he needs looking after. Dad will have custody of him after I go, obviously, but he's older and—," Ned sighs, looking back at the boys playing.
"Of course I'll mind your boy. Always," I say.
"He needs a dad. Bella will look out for him obviously but—,"
"No. He can stay here with Harry if he likes, they're fast friends as it is," I say, my voice thick in my throat at the mention of my beloved brother's death. "I'll look out for him. Your boy will want for nothing. You know that."
"It's not to do with money Jon," he sighs. I'm wealthier than he, and basically everyone.
"Money helps," I scoff, "I'll see he's in a good school, same as Harry. They'll be fine. We will be fine, don't worry about that."
Ned smiles, putting a hand on my arm to squeeze it.
"Dad, can we go play down by the pier?" Harry calls, bouncing a little.
"Yeah, if you go together," I say.
"Richard can't swim—Richie, do you want to go?" Ned asks, preparing to rise to go with his son.
"I'm okay, Dad," Richard says, quietly, twitching his shoulders like he does.
"I'll take care of him, I promise," Henry says, hugging his cousin, "We'll be fine, won't we Richard? I'll take care of you."
"We're fine, we've got each other," Richard says.
"Go on then," Ned says, sitting back down, painfully.
"You can rest, we've got this," I say, rubbing his back. He leans against me, once strong body shuddering as he coughs again.
"I'm not going to win this one, Jon," he says, quietly.
"You don't have to," I say, squeezing him around the shoulders as we watch our sons run off to play with their wooden swords, playing at being knights, while they learn to be kings, "We already won."