The Last Knights of Cambria Book 4: Secrets of the Mountain

Chapter 5: An unlikely war council

Gideon
King Henry ushers us all inside. After a moment of conferring with Courtenay, he orders all of us to the back of the State apartments, where there's a room more secure than the rest, or something of that kind, that is also big enough for us all. He and Courtenay and for that matter I, don't trust the ghosts not to return, and while we trust Courtenay's spells we'd sooner all remain in one fairly easy to defend place until Courtenay is well enough to test them. There's a sitting room and a set of bedrooms. This is very obviously a plotting room of Henry's, there are maps on the wall and a very full desk. It's not the room he and Courtenay drink in, must be spare.
Nurses are sent in with the younger children, Henry and Courtenay distribute guards, and they both keep me with them while they do that, then they join Lady Catherine in the sitting room. She has checked out the two middle boys, Ned and Thomas, who seem pleased with her attention.
Courtenay leads me in and pours us each a glass of wine.
"I'm hungry," I say, quietly.
"They'll bring food," he says, nodding, "You'll be sick if you eat now."
I am willing to risk it, but I nod. I'd bet he's done this to himself a time or two. I have, but I usually wind up in hospital. I accept a glass of water and hey, why not, a glass of wine.
"What are you doing here? It was—I didn't expect you back for another few months," Henry says, to Catherine. Something like—concern in his voice? Oh did she have another kid? Did she leave because she was pregnant and it's not his kid? Something like that?
"I'm perfectly well," she says, coolly, but that meant something to them. Why would he think she wouldn't be back for months unless why she was gone, was timed? A pregnancy they didn't want the world to know about? Perhaps, that would explain why I hadn't met her yet she wasn't even back for Christmas. "Would you care to explain why we are being kidnapped?"
"We were attacked earlier," Henry says, looking at me, "I think our wizard has an explanation?"
"Father he—," Harry is about to tell him. I shake my head a little.
"What was that?" Henry asks, looking between us, "Harry, what do you know?"
"You're questioning our eleven year old?" Catherine asks.
"Lady mother, it isn't father's fault—and it's not Gideon's fault either. Gideon was helping," Harry says, quickly, as he kneels on the floor petting one of the dogs.
Henry looks at me expectantly.
"Your Majesty, I recently was taken by a—spirit who wishes you ill," I sigh, a little. The wine is bitter on my tongue. I'd prefer the water. I take another sip of that then go on, "—Your Highness, are you familiar with the legend of Fionn MacCumhail?"
"Yes, a little. He's an Irish and Scottish national hero—akin to King Arthur. A hero who sleeps in the mountain, right?" Harry asks, softly, glancing between his parents. Aw, he's cautious around his mother? He usually speaks up to his two dads.
"Who will rise in times of Ireland's greatest need, he was likely a wizard—are you saying he's real?" Courtenay asks.
"Yes, and he's been woken, because something is threatening Ireland," I say.
"You," Catherine looks at her husband tiredly.
"And yes, he thinks that thing threatening Ireland is—yourself, your grace," I say, shrugging a little.
"That is a ridiculous story, I would never—ever," Henry makes a vague hand gesture to Courtenay who goes to take down a map of Ireland off the wall. It has invasion routes drawn on it, all clearly in Henry's left-handed scrawl, "Ever—threaten Ireland."
"Yes, you would!" Catherine says, immediately.
"What reason would I have for doing that?" Henry asks, obviously offended and very self righteous considering Courtenay is currently rolling up a map of Ireland that has battle plans on it.
"You don't need one! You'd do that for fun," Catherine says, immediately. So she does know him.
"Father, you have discussed invading Ireland," Harry says, softly.
"Well, I'm not right now," Henry says, sitting down. One of the little boys moves from Catherine's lap to come curl up under his arm. Henry doesn't really react to this at all, just leaning back and sipping his wine like he's innocent of war crimes.
"To be clear—that's what I told Fionn, that you're not invading Ireland—at the moment, even though England could—and probably plans on it—you're not the current threat," I say, taking a slow breath. I'm really ill, that was not good for me and I still haven't gotten food.
"Thank you, Gideon," Prince Harry appreciates me see why I love him?
"Well, considering there are ghosts invading the castle I take it the spirit didn't listen to you?" Courtenay asks.
"You're holding a map of Ireland, Archbishop, would you believe you?" I ask, "Look I know that you aren't—currently——probably, threatening Ireland but I think it's safe to say it looks kind of bad."
"So what? Was that the best the ghost could do?" Henry asks, almost smiling. He likes a challenge. So do I, but I'm a bit more worn out at the moment.
"No," Courtenay says, "That wasn't the Fianna."
"What's that?" Catherine asks.
"The band of immortal warriors," Prince Harry says, getting up to come over and get a cup of water.
"You're limping, Harry, come here," Henry says, patting his hip like the boy is a dog.
"I'm well father, the Archbishop looks worse," Harry says, coming anyway.
"The Archbishop is fine, he's happy," Henry says, dismissively, motioning for Harry to sit next to him.
"No, the Archbishop isn't," Courtenay sputters. His eyes are still weeping tears of blood.
"Fine, so they're sending more, my wife and children go to the Tower, we fight them off here, at a battle ground of my choosing," Henry says, almost cheerfully, while taking his son's ankle to examine.
"Ow," Harry mutters.
Henry ignores him, taking off the shoe and sock to twist the boy's foot not overly gently, "It's a sprain. It's not broken. You just need to rest it."
"It doesn't hurt bad," Harry says, quietly.
"Of course it doesn't, you're very brave," Henry says, pinching the boy's foot. Harry grins, not really moving his feet from his father's lap.
"If the Fianna comes—they are undead warriors; we cannot simply kill them," Courtenay says, looking at me.
I nod, "And they don't simply want the King, Fionn said his orders are to kill the princes as well."
"He will not get that close," Henry says, about to give Harry a sip of his wine as the boy reaches for it.
"Harry come here," Catherine says, "Let me see your foot now that your father has tried to detach it."
"He's fine," Henry says, coolly. I wonder who spends less time with these kids? I'd be shocked it if it was her overall, but they're about neck in neck more than likely. Between Henry's campaigns and my observations over the last year almost, it doesn't seem like she's around much.
"I'm well, Lady mother," Harry says, leaving his father obediently.
"So what? Can't your sorcerers handle a few ghosts? The Tower is easy to protect, unless they've got a dragon," Henry says, glancing at me dryly.
"I realize the offensive is usually England's strategy, but can I bring up the point that if we know we're not the threat to Ireland—that means something else is threatening Ireland?" I say, raising a hand a little.
"And whatever that is, is across the channel from us?" Henry tips his head to me, "Very convenient you come with tales of monsters, Saint."
"He's sworn to protect me! That's why he's here because I called on his aid," Harry pipes up, from his mother examining his bruised foot, "That's all —everyone stop distrusting him when he's my friend."
"Harry, I don't trust anyone. Incidentally he's not your friend and we don't trust him," Henry says, very nicely given the context of the sentence.
Courtenay frowns like trying to figure out what spell we did.
"Why are you friends with a wizard?" Catherine asks her son.
"Because he doesn't listen to me," Henry mutters.
"Gideon is right, it's well known the only thing to wake the Fianna is a threat to Ireland—we look like a threat to Ireland, but we are not, ergo something else is, now what world power could be threatening Ireland?" Courtenay puts in.
"None, I'm occupying most anyone who'd have thoughts to invade," Henry says, lightly, proud of being a professional headache to most of Europe.
"So it's something else," I say, "Something—magic?"
"Like what?" Courtenay asks.
"I don't know a rogue wizard? But it doesn't do us any good or Ireland—if we and the Fianna fight amongst ourselves," I say, "Please. Fionn wouldn't listen to me, he wouldn't believe that you are innocent."
"Innocent is a strong word," Catherine says, looking at her husband, then back down at her son, "That's bruising, Harry. We'll send for a doctor later don't walk on it."
"I said he's fine," Henry says, but an edge to his voice.
"Did you not also say you were fine when that happened to your face?" Catherine asks. Nobody really mentions his face but him, and that's just to paint himself as Christ figure. And given he has his statues made without it I'm guessing he doesn't like how it looks.
"Well. I am fine," Henry says, icily, returning her cold stare.
"I'm fine, lady mother," Harry says, slipping back down onto the carpet to pet the dog.
"Let's recap, shall we?" Courtenay asks, going to sit down next to Henry then deciding not to and just pacing, "We know the Fianna is looking to rise."
"Which means that Oisin, that's Fionn's son—is looking for the horn," I say.
Henry looks forward.
"You have that—right?" I ask.
"You'll address your king with more respect," Henry says, coolly.
"But you have that. You stole it last time you were Ireland for fun in case you might want to invade Ireland because you thought it was good insurance because you figured you'd want to become a threat to Ireland because you aspire to be a threat to everything, my lord," I say, very quickly.
"Is that that—black—horn—thing you have locked up?" Catherine asks, "Do you have still that? And you're wondering why they think you're going to invade them?"
"I am going to invade them. Just later," Henry says, very innocently despite being completely at fault here, "And yes. Saint. I do have—something of that kind I wouldn't know it's the Dord Fiann just because some hysterical Irish people trying to sound it when we invaded thought it was the Dord Fiann and so I kept it. And it seems good thing I did because it summons the dead."
"No, no not good thing you did, did you think we'd all forget that you keeping it is the reason that these monsters are coming after us?" Catherine asks.
"Oh, it's also because of who he is as a person," I say, and Courtenay snorts out his wine.
"Can I see it, father?" Harry asks, hopefully, "I read all the legends and—,"
"Yes of course, Harry, it's the black one, d'you remember on Christmas we were chatting about—things we might do together and I was showing you that and a map?" Henry asks, leaning forward to chat with his son, like we all won't realize that things they might do together were invade Ireland and kill Irish people and it was a map of Ireland.
"Yes—you just said it was old, that's fantastic. I bet the Irish people would be glad if we gave it back," Harry says.
"Ah, perhaps," Henry who has no intention of returning this thing he stole.
"So they can't summon the Fianna—if they don't have this thing you have," Catherine says.
"No," Henry says.
"Yes—there's—other ways of getting another one, using magic, which Oisin likely will since what he just tried didn't work," I say, quickly, "Trust me, he can summon them. You delayed him yes but he's got other methods."
"And? What do you propose we do?" Henry asks me, "You seem to think you have all the answers?"
"Absolutely not, no, I tried to reason with Fionn it didn't work, I'm sorry your grace, I'm just saying what I know," I sigh.
"But Gideon had a point. If we reveal whatever is threatening Ireland then, well, the Fianna can deal with that as God intended. And we have proved our innocence so to speak," Courtenay says.
"But we're not—he is not innocent," Catherine points at her husband, who is sitting there very innocently, sipping his wine, both his blond haired blue eyed children have migrated over to curl up underneath his arms and nap, as a matter of form to use their strong dad as a napping place. And him, death painted on his face, even seated casually he's clearly bleeding power and violence, sipping his wine delicately like he's not guilty of half the sins ever thought of.
"None of us are innocent of sin lady mother," Harry says, softly.
"No, but your father is much worse," Catherine tells him.
"Let's not be hasty now, I'm not keen on having the Fianna summoned," Henry says, "It wouldn't do for the people to see a sleeping king rise from the mountain."
"Like you always want everyone to think you are, you mean? Yes, Henry, after the years of quiet effort of making the people think you're Arthur reborn it would spoil it for an ACTUAL future king to come out of a mountain," Catherine says, her voice dripping in sarcasm.
"Yes, exactly," Henry, missing all the sarcasm, and instead pleased she understood.
"What are you proposing?" Courtenay asks, like very resignedly, like he's said this before and the next thing he knows he's in a trench in the middle of France.
"We find, and neutralize the threat to Ireland, no King needs to leave any mountain, no more ghosts. It's not as though my navy and my army—and some Welsh bowmen they're not doing anything and I haven't exercised them lately—,"
"It's been like three months," I put in but he ignores me.
"And Gideon's already invested. Harry, you could come you've not seen Ireland, the people would be in your debt then," Henry encourages.
"No, thank you very much it's very, very, very tempting but I don't think I want to," Harry says, sweetly, like he's not at all tempted, "That's still—-definitely I think no. I think you and the Archbishop should do that though the Archbishop would enjoy that! Look, he's glaring at you."
"Henry, he's eleven," Catherine says, and at hearing his actual name Henry looks at her with something almost like disgust.
"And he's my son," Henry says, but his voice dismissive. That's his child. The first born. She gets others, but the first born is generally the King's plaything. In a way it's understandable. If you're king who are your friends other than the odd favorite? For most decent sorts, their eldest son is going to be one of their best friends for a while. Henry VII and Edward III tended hang out with their boys, mostly the oldest couple, take them places, and generally just do you know, Middle Ages father son stuff. Edward III particularly was close to the Black Prince, his eldest boy, they were something like seventeen years apart so by late in life, the Black Prince was literally the family member he'd had the longest, and person he'd known the longest especially after his wife passed.
I don't think Henry is as empathetic as his great great great grandfather but now that his boy's fighting age they should get to enjoy his favorite hobby. And Catherine probably distances herself from her oldest, because she knows that's the kid who is going to be needlessly endangered in the name of fun. I'm not going to lie I wouldn't mind child endangerment if it meant a dad wanting to have a good time with me.
"We'll discuss it again I think you would enjoy yourself—stop clutching your face like that," Henry says, moving Harry with a foot. The boy quits clutching his face but looks at his father with obvious concern for his welfare and ability to survive without him. It would be condescending, but Henry is looking at his small pale offspring in the exact same manner, like also marveling that this kid has survived on his own this long.
"So we're going to Ireland, to prevent the threat?" Courtenay, so tired, already dreading doing this and they haven't even left.
"Why not let Ireland take care of it?" Catherine asks.
"I don't want to," Henry says, shrugging. And that's all the answer he need give.
"What about Oisin?" Harry asks, mostly me, "You said he was the one who summoned the ghosts?"
"Yes, and he's loose," I say. But how did he get out of the twenty-first century? The amulet? "I think—I might be able to find him though."
"And do what?" Henry asks, tipping his chin.
"Talk him around. I bring him here, you can tell him that you're not going to invade Ireland, but you're offering to help stop whatever is," I say, we both know for Henry's love of war he's decidedly good at peace. He's silver-tongued as his grandfather and great grandfather before him and can charm his way through any court in Europe. He just prefers burning them to the ground.
"And as a show of good faith you can give him his horn back," Harry says, nicely.
"No, we won't," Henry says, "I still need that."
"I feel like you don't," Catherine says, looking like she's remembering why she doesn't hang out here.
"How do you plan on finding Oisin?" Courtenay asks.
"My tricks," I smile at him. He almost smiles back. "I think I can find him. But not tonight. I spent most of my strength getting out of that mountain and then fighting ghosts."
"You—-you were trapped in the mountain? And you—got out?? How?" Courtenay asks.
"A spell."
"HOW STRONG?" He about spills his wine. Henry leans over and rescues it. Then he combines it with his wine so he doesn't have to get up to get more.
"If you're going to be boring Archbishop please take this elsewhere. We don't care for your witchcraft around the children," Catherine says, like the children aren't personally involved in his witchcraft daily when they definitely are. I've witness him tuck these kids into bed. Sorcery is generally looked down on but I didn't realize that Henry made the personal exception to keep Courtenay in polite company. But of course he did.
"Yes, your majesty," Courtenay stares at me as he says it though. I chew on my fist. I always forget I do things that others will find shocking. It's just my magic. I'm not special. I just leveled up a few times, half of that was because of him specifically.
"We can barricade ourselves on the second floor with the children tonight, we should all have dinner," Henry says, making no move to rise, "Richard, see that Gideon is fed and we don't lose him."
"Your Majesty," Courtenay takes that cue to go, nodding for me to follow. I do, tiredly. For whatever reason, Prince Harry darts after us and his parents don't stop him.
Courtenay catches us both the minute we are out of the door. "What. Spell."
"It's protection," I hold up the hand with the ring.
"It's just if I'm in danger," Harry holds up his ring, big eyes gentle and precious.
"I see nothing, how strong a spell is on the crown prince?" Courtenay shakes me.
I mumble a reveal spell, so that he can see the enchantment and the rings, "That's it. I knew that he could be in danger that's all."
"And I was and it helped, please don't let father go to Ireland? Archbishop, he listens to you he has enough wars don't you think? He doesn't need a new one," Harry sighs.
"He'll do as he likes," Courtenay sighs, tiredly, "Now go, before your parents look for you."
"They're staring into each other's eyes they're not looking for me," Harry mutters, but he goes back anyway.
I look at Courtenay weakly, "Food?"
"Food."
We make our way to the dining hall reserved for servants. I am going to guess Courtenay is not pleased with having his usual custom of dining with the King disturbed, but it's also probably not the first time the Queen has taken precedent. Whatever Courtenay's thoughts, he's too tired to bother with them and he and I take dinner in the relative private of the servant's dining hall. A few knights glance at Courtenay, but knowing the queen is back they are not surprised to see him here.
At first, I'm overwhelmed with the food, after a week of fish and nothing else I nearly weep when presented with fresh bread, cooked vegetables, fruits, and game meat. Henry's court eats a bit better than Wales, it's richer food and I'm quickly ill but that doesn't stop me from eating.
Once the food is getting in us both, I fill Courtenay in fully on my conversations with Fionn and what I saw. I don't strictly trust the Archbishop, but his knowledge of magic well surpasses my own, there's no denying that. And I need all the help that I can get. It's only a matter of time before Oisin finds the horn in my world, and uses the amulet to get himself back here.
I don't tell Courtenay my true suspicions on that, just that he can obtain the horn. Courtenay has no need to know of the time travel. I'm surprised Oisin does.
The most I can figure is, Oisin used the amulet to travel forward, then somehow using his own magic reversed it to come back here just not to inside the mountain. He's had a couple centuries to work on it, I figure he can manipulate the thing in ways I can't.
After dinner, Courtenay leads me back up to the family quarters. He has a room here or expects to.
"You're in with me," he says, motioning to the door, "I'll have them put a bed on the floor. Go ask one of the knights if they have clothes that might fit you."
"My lord," I nod. I appreciate he's letting me wander off a little, even if he probably knows I'll be up to no good with it.
I'm halfway down the stairs when I find a closet to disincorporate. It's not that I don't trust Henry, but that he's never done anything to warrant my trust.
I slip back up to the hall, and stop outside the nursery. Henry's room is usually a floor down, but I assume he and the queen will be up here given the heightened alert.
I look in. They're in one of the little boy's rooms. The two are tucked in bed, sound asleep.
"They put you across the hall. Edmund still cries at night, sometimes I hear it," Henry says, a bit stiffly.
"When?" She asks, softly, "When you're home? When's that?"
"Are you well? Really?" He asks, "Why did you come?"
"I'm fine. I just wanted to see them," she says, softly, looking down at the sleeping boys.
"And the child?" He asks, softly.
"Fine."
Oh so she did have another child they're not talking about. Not his? Or just it's sick and they're not announcing it?
"Don't say you worried about me, Henry. We know you don't think about me," she says, looking up at him, finally.
"I do."
"Not often."
"I didn't say that," he shrugs a little, stepping closer. He reaches out and very carefully takes her hand in his much larger one.
"I'm glad you're well."
"I'm glad you came back again," she says.
He half smiles, the good side of his face only. He squeezes her hand again. Then he puts his big hand to her face, gently stroking his thumb across her lips.
She smiles, almost laughing, and does not move away as he repeats the motion, gently stroking his rough thumb over her lips, top then bottom, smoothing her soft skin beneath the pad of his thumb. He tips his head downward, to look at her in the dim light, till their foreheads nearly touch, he's got to nearly double over to achieve this as he's a solid foot taller than she is.
"You blush still," he says, softly, and she is even in the candlelight. She looks every minute those fourteen years his junior, a few stray curls framing her soft face. "You did when I first kissed you. You blushed like a maid, you're not a maid now."
"No. But you're you, Henry," she says, quietly, "You're still you."
He smiles again, really now, and presses his finger to her mouth.
"Do you think of me?" She asks.
"Not often," he smiles still, finally taking his hand from her face, "You wouldn't want it."
"I suppose."
I move to go. Forget it. That didn't tell me anything except he isn't currently being rotten. Which is probably a new personal record. If I sound bitter recall he's tried to kill me. Three times.
It is interesting though. We have, as scholars, little to no evidence regarding Henry and Catherine's relationship, however brief in my world. The facts are these. He was in negotiations to marry her from when he was probably my age or a little younger. His father Henry IV (not the world's greatest negotiator) did not ever succeed in striking a bargain. When Henry V got his crown vague negotiations were made again, but no deal was ever reached mostly because Henry kept asking for inordinate sums of money and the throne of France. Anyway. From Catherine's perspective, she knew of him and that he might marry her from her childhood. And as a royal lady, she was being prepared for a high ranking marriage. When Henry took Agincourt and then finally reached a deal with France for her hand, she was eighteen, and he was thirty-two. Not a terrible age gap for any time period, but he was still a solid thirteen or fourteen years her senior.
She would not meet him till he came to Paris. He would have already been sent her picture but she didn't get his and that's not fair, he has way to more disclose in that department. But even if she did get to see a portrait (we don't know if she did), he never allowed himself to be painted from the scarred side. Which is interesting. And he's about eight inches taller than average height for the era plus an arrow to the face? He's a bit surprising to see in person. Rumor is she blushed when he first kissed her, which endeared her to him. That's probably rumor from biased English sources—it's hard to believe she found a man nearly old enough to be her father, obviously disfigured, charming.
They married in Paris, and went back to the coast of France to spend the New Year (Henry took a brief break from matrimony to do a little siege on the way). Then they journeyed to England where she was crowned Queen come February. She was barely twenty. They did a traditional tour of England. The people of England thought her beautiful, though little else is known. Henry mostly left her alone though, he toured himself primarily.
Likely a few trusted servants or ladies in waiting came with Catherine, but she would have primarily been with new staff. Henry brought her back to Windsor and he himself prepared to go back on campaign in France.
Catherine definitely knew she was pregnant by this point, their child would be born early December so by her husband's departure from England she was already visibly carrying their first child. This did not stay Henry's departure. That's something of an anomaly, most kings tend to try to make the birth of their fist born, and most of the others if possible. Edward II was intentionally around at least for the first one's birth. Edward III generally tried to be a good dad and husband and showed up for those things, and most other kings would follow suit so it's unusual Henry would rather go to war but consider his personality.
However Catherine felt about this is lost to history. She gave birth early December, her first English winter. A new country, primarily speaking a different language, and wetnurses and nursemaids or no, she's gone through her first pregnancy, her husband far away in France fighting in her home country, she's a mother for the first time, her own mother also in France. Post partum depression existed despite us not having a word for it, and it's hard to believe that Catherine was having a good time of it. Hormones and all else plus now an infant to care for who is the focus of the English court as is she, when she looks her worst (in her mind having just given birth) and probably feels her worst. Henry sent no presents or anything to her when the child was born, rather unusual most kings did, especially with a first born son, not required but. Arguably previously removing himself and not generally living with her was kind of polite. But now she had their baby and he's cold as ever.
Whatever she felt really, her next action is telling. She goes back to France, in February. Her infant son not two months old, and she leaves the country to visit her parents. She writes to Henry saying she misses seeing him. And he comes and visits her on the coast of France, as do her parents. It's unknown what was said at that interaction. If she asked him to come home and meet their son. If she simply missed him (less likely, he hadn't been a very good husband). If she wished to get away from Windsor and knew she couldn't go to France without seeing her husband.
In my reality, she then returns to England. This is in February, Henry dies in France still on campaign in August. Catherine supports her baby-king-son for the first few years of his life before retiring from the public eye completely.
That's understandable. But a couple of points about the evidence at hand. Which makes Henry look like something of a jerk. Which might be valid. However.
Henry is yes, fourteen years older than his bride. However, he has had no previous relationships, with women, that we know of. And we'd probably know. His father and grandfather both had mistresses, and most kings did. There was little to no shame in it. He could have had a lover if he wanted one, that's just personal, the marriage is business. Suffice to say he's had, limited, dealings to say the least with women. His own mother died when he was about ten. He had baby sisters but they would have been raised by the women of the family while he went on to have the child-endangerment portion of his youth. He had a stepmother who was a witch who tried to raise his father from the dead fun story, very weird, not relevant, but she and he got on fine. He's pretty old, to be unwed, and with no former lovers, so it's pretty safe to assume this is his first major relationship, with a woman. England takes great offense to calling Henry gay, but Courtenay non withstanding, I'm going to point out we simply wouldn't know if he had a male companion because no children, and it's natural as all get out for him to pal about with his fellow knights and Henry is clever enough to make that look good.
Anyway. Point being, this is his first major relationship as well. They both have been trained and raised to have to do this, her primarily, but she's going to be ready as he is for marriage. She's not naive, likely her mother and other trusted women will have told her what to expect.
They both would have known they need to have a child. There are rumors around Catherine about her having affairs, I'm not going to give them too much credit, yes maybe. She still had to have an heir or she looked bad.
This was likely a business arrangement. it's unlikely either of them expected romance. Henry very clearly had his life. And he expected her to be ready and trained to have her life in the palace with the children.
It's very interesting that she wanted to see him in France. Maybe that was to keep up appearances. Maybe not. But he did come, and he is Henry I do what I want The Fifth, he didn't have to. So he had some respect for her.
Not coming back for his child's birth or to visit? That's him. Henry isn't the most empathetic guy on the planet (gestures widely to everything but mostly France burning to the ground). That doesn't mean he was being cruel to her and if he was she likely wouldn't have wanted to see him. She did.
Romance or business? Eh, if you want to be romantic a bit of both. They both knew the stakes and were very different people. Given she wrote to him and he came when she asked there was a mutual respect there.
She did her duty, by her son, by her husband. And we as romantics and like to imagine more than that but she doesn't owe the world more as a parent than Henry did. They needed an heir, they got one. Her retirement from public life is cited sometimes as mental illness. She had several children (not all lived) after Henry VI, so she likely didn't have too bad of a childbirth experiences. Suffice to say ladies of the era had ways to avoid childbearing if necessary, for one she knowingly got married again so we assume she was open to more kids, for another there were some however primitive forms of birth control. We're going to assume she wanted the kids.
Her father was mentally ill (he thought he was made of glass, fun guy, not actually a bad person or parent), so it's possible she inherited something. Anything from basic paranoia or anxiety would drive her from the public life. If so, more power to her.
In this reality she and Henry apparently get along okay still, despite his continued life here in this reality. And she seems fine if happy being out of the public image. I wonder vaguely what they were talking about, Henry asked after a child, but I assume not one of the ones here at the palace? She had one out of wedlock, perhaps, and they think the child's paternity makes it obviously not his? And he either doesn't care because you know, it's whatever if it isn't found out? Or do they have another child who is ill in some fashion and she's off staying with it? Wouldn't be out of the ordinary. But also doesn't matter to me at the moment.
I slip back to the stairs and reincorporate. That small effort exhausted me. I need to eat and sleep. Not necessarily in that order.
I go back upstairs to the hall. I'm done in, but I know I can't admit defeat and sleep just yet.
Blessedly Prince Harry is leaning out into the hall looking around, still holding his bible, hair damp and looking freshly brushed, not at all worse for the wear from today's adventure.
"Gideon," he smiles cheerfully, "The Archbishop was kind over dinner, wasn't he? Mother and father had me dine with them so they could talk to me and not each other; it was exhausting."
"I imagine," I say, pitying the boy and his parents non-conventional relationship which somehow involves Courtenay. "Can you do me a favor?"
"Yes of course," he says, nicely, nodding a little.
"Write to Wales and tell them I'm well. I've quite disappeared from there," I admit, "And they'll be worried. Be as cryptic as you like, but I want them to know I'm safe and have an idea we're dealing with something at the moment. Can you do that for me? Such that your father isn't aware; I'm sure he doesn't think it's necessary."
"But of course. I can send a messenger, we're glad of your help," he nods, frowning a little, "Do you think the ghosts will come back?"
"Not tonight," I'm willing to bet Oisin is exhausted as I am after that stunt. I have a plan but at the moment it's fluid and hazed by my lack of sleep, "One more thing. Which is your best deer hound?"