The Last Knights of Cambria Book 5: Deaths of the Rose

Chapter 6: The longest night of the year (special edition) (director's cut)

We find the court physician in short order, or at least the room where we're supposed to wait for him. It's just a little sitting room, but all the furniture is pushed away except a table with water and such on it, and then another one I suppose to be examined on. Jasper goes and sits on the table, wincing, and I pace.
Usually this is a pain, because my own knowledge of self care is basically the same as their medical knowledge in the era, and at this point I just want to go lie down. However. Warwick is also there with the boys, so that's entertaining. I've never seen a man lose faith in god so rapidly before my eyes. He's not even questioning why the hell Richard would lure the serpent he just figures that's typical behavior and he's not wrong, which is beautiful to me.
"Tell me why did you use 'tenant portam' to block the wall? I would have thought 'solidum aerem' would be much more effective or do you not think—," yes at this point Richard gets his mouth covered.
"So you didn't find any of my cases—yet you had gunpowder?" Warwick is saying to Hal, taking hold of his arm.
"Ow, ow let me go I demand my solicitor."
"Richard is not your solicitor, Henry. He's twelve. We talked about this last week."
"Oh, you lived. There must not  be a god," Jasper grunts, shifting past Warwick to come and get water from a table.
"I think he's talking to you," Hal Stafford says, helpfully.
"—because you expended twice the energy and it was more hazardous to—," Richard gets his mouth free to keep talking.
"Out. Both of you. You're clearly fine. Go to your rooms," Warwick says, and the poison in his voice does make both boys wither a bit.
"Are they all right?" I ask, giving them a once over. They look mostly unscathed, but Richard is bleeding from the mouth about as bad as I am, though that isn't stopping him from talking.
"That one was using magic; he needs to drink water and quit talking," Jasper says, handing Richard a cup of water.
"They stay till the physician has looked at them," I say. Hal took a couple of nasty tumbles, something could be broken.
"See? It's their castle and they said we're staying," Richard says, spitting blood into the cup of water.
"Fine. We'll do this here. Where did you steal the gunpowder? From my things?" Warwick snarls.
"No! That's my personal supply. I just have that!" Hal cries.
Looking at the nine year old who does not have any impulse control, "WHY WOULD YOU JUST HAVE THAT?"
"It was given to us," Richard says, folding his arms.
"BY WHOM?"
"Jesus," Richard says, immediately.
Warwick appears to be restraining himself from decking the boy then and there. Jasper grins, but tries to hide it.
"I will tell both of your mothers that you stole from me. Neither one of you will have any privileges when we get back. You'll be helping the scullery maids," Warwick says, regaining his composure.
"What else is new?" Hal asks.
"At least the scullery maids will be more intellectual company," Richard says, looking at Warwick with obvious disdain.
"Now, everyone is tired, the boys fought hard, let's give them time to commit more crimes before we doll out more punishments, eh Warwick?" Jasper says, calmly.
"A month," Warwick says, to the boys.
"Don't worry, Bell said that when he made her stay in her room for a month it was only like a week then Lady Neville let her out," Hal says, to Richard, who was glaring daggers at Warwick.
"When do you speak with my daughter?" Warwick asks, upset.
The boys look at each other.
"All the time."
"Yeah like all the time."
"Basically everyday."
"Depending on what we're doing."
"Both of 'em actually."
"Yeah."
They nod.
"I specifically told you to keep to your lessons and not distract them from theirs," Warwick is actually confused that they would disobey him.
"We know," they say, in unison, confused as to why he's confused.
"It doesn't really matter," I say, which does not help at all.
"We're bored lots! Also I'm a married man," Hal Stafford says. That's technically true as he and Cathrine Woodville would be legally married at the age of eight. Jasper wouldn't necessarily know that, but he doesn't necessarily care. Funny note, he'll, in about twenty years, marry Cathrine Woodville, Hal's widow. Both political marriages, but she's by all accounts happy enough with Jasper, despite him being old enough to be her father.
"It's not like talking to your daughters is worse than Jesus giving us your explosives," Richard says.
"He has a point," I say.
"Oh, I'm just giving you over to my wife for that," Warwick snarls.
"Oh, she knows."
"Yeah, she knows."
"She's decided since she can't make any of us better she'll just let us make each other worse," Richard explains.
Warwick is spared a response by the door opening and the Duke of Exeter strolling in, carrying a sack of medical supplies. He's mostly out of armor in just a mail shirt, of course still wearing his sword. He grins cheerfully as he surveys us. Hal hides behind Richard, that's the effect this man has on children.
"Sorry, that took a minute, all right who's first?" Exeter says, happily rubbing his hands together, "Got lots of blood!"
"You're—not the bowmen's physician," I say. Technically we see the bowmen's physician because they're usually more available than the troops one. Armies have varying numbers of physicians, usually the king has his own, but I know how the English court usually does these things so I was expecting the bowmen's physician.
"I am now! The physician, sadly, is dead, and no longer alive. So I am going to do it, here, start eating that," he throws wrapped up sugary cakes full force at the boy's faces, Richard catches both. Warwick stutters something and nearly gets hit with his. I catch mine happily. We're being given sugar because of the blood loss.
"Why is the physician dead?" Jasper asks, suspicious.
"He wasn't able to be living anymore! Let me see that shoulder," Exeter says, happily.
"Was he—alive before he met you?" Jasper asks, really slowly while Warwick starts stepping behind the children who overcame their fear of Exeter because he fed them and are now inching closer to steal more food.
"No! Thank you so much for asking! It's actually a very funny story, Jas. Shirt, off," Exeter waves his hand, other hand on hip, still grinning.
Jasper obeys, carefully taking off his shirt around the wounded shoulder. Something that everyone in the room sees fit to stare at. The boys appear to be reassessing their sexuality for the third time this week. Warwick just looks like he's disappointed because he didn't have "Lancaster Sorcerer is absolutely shredded" on his 'War of the Roses Orchestrated By Warwick and Won By Warwick' Bingo Card. Because he is shredded, by the way, okay not like, you can see veins shredded but just like, you can see more muscles than you'd think, and he's got pale skin and like freckles on his ribs, and about four more deep red birthmarks one wrapping around his thick bicep and another on his ribs and anyway you had to be there.
"Is it a funny story, Harry? One involving your knife and the man's throat?" Jasper asks, dryly, not even noticing all of us watching and eating, clearly entertained.
"Are you implying I would murder one of our physicians?" Exeter asks, getting the water to clean the wound.
"I'm directly stating it. You would definitely do that," Jasper says, helping hold a cloth to the bleeding, "Now did you?"
"Yeah, obviously. He was trying to desert."
"Was he? Or were you still cross because he said you shouldn't be taking orders from Queen Margret?" Jasper asks.
"We're never really going to know now, are we? It's one of life's mysteries Jas, you have to embrace them you know. You're not very romantic I have noticed that about you," Exeter says, very nicely, as he starts to pack the wound with a poultice of honey. It was all made up in the bag, or I'd be worried for Jasper.
"He is not a doctor?" Warwick asks, pointing at Exeter.
"No," Japser and I say, in unison.
"Henry Holland, Duke of Exeter," Exeter beams his clown on meth grin, "I know who you are."
"I'm going to leave," Warwick says, edging away from the psychopath, "They'll stay here."
"Oy, stop trying to leave the kids places they'll die," Jasper says, snapping his fingers, but unable to move because Exeter is gleefully wrapping up his shoulder.
"We'll keep them," I say.
"Why?" Jasper asks.
"To take care of them," I say, carefully brushing dirt out of their hair as they eat more cakes which is actually stopping their mouths for once.
"No, they already have a home, no, you can't keep a stray sorcerer because it looks lonely," Jasper sighs.
"Is that not how we became friends?"
"I mean—yeah—however—GET BACK HERE," Jasper says, and he has such a dad voice the boys and I stop eating and jump a little. It was aimed at Warwick, but we kind of stop what we were doing.
"I have other affairs to attend to I do not need treatment—,"
"Your children?" Jasper says, gesturing to the boys.
"We don't want to go with him," Hal says.
"I don't need supervision," Richard says, extremely haughtily for a person who jumped into a snake's mouth a few hours ago.
"Boys. Come," Warwick says, with no conviction.
"I haven't treated them yet. They could be hurt, they could die," Exeter, but definitely like he wants to kill them, beaming broadly.
"Go to bed this time," I say, handing them each another little cake. Hal smiles a little.
"They're fine, they've eaten, go on now," Jasper nods to them.
"No—Jas—," Exeter, really quietly and disappointed.
"Shut up a minute Harry—Neville, I'll speak with you in the morning," Jasper waves them away.
I come and sit down next to him on the table. I lean my head back, sighing a little.
"There, just a flesh wound," Exeter says, literally slapping the injury. Jasper cries out in pain and immediately slugs him. The smaller, but meaner man laughs, obviously entertained.
"You bastard," Jasper winces, "That did hurt? I had a sword through me."
"Aye, will happen to you if you're gettin' in the way of swords," Exeter laughs, "Come here Gid, you hurt yourself?"
"Not really, just needed the sugar," I say, holding up a cake.
"Here, cover up, whore," Exeter throws Jasper's shirt over him very much like the Birth of Venus.
"You made me take it off? I realize we're permanently busy, but when we get a moment Gid we need to talk about whatever is deeply wrong with him I don't think we can fix it, but we should probably talk about it," Jasper says, trying to sort out his shirt. I help him, tugging it over his head and helping to get his injured arm into it.
"You and I have —what is it? Seven duels to fight when this war is won?" Exeter asks, lightly, getting a cloth from his bag. Well, it's not his he stole it from a man he murdered so I mean now it's his.
"Your plan when the war is over is to immediately kill each other for like fifteen years of insults?" I ask.
"Yes, as a treat!" Exeter says, happily.
"It would be a mercy killing at that point even the queen agrees, unless she gets used to our voices in which case we have to remain alive on royal command," Jasper says.
"But you've heard him speak so that's not likely to happen," Exeter says, coming to dab the blood off my face delicately with a soft cloth, while grinning. This is the most terrifying thing to ever happen to me and I have to grit my teeth not to pull away as he leans unnaturally close grinning maniacally and carefully dabbing blood off my face mostly ineffectively.
"Here, sit still. Who raised you?" Jasper mutters, snatching the cloth. He puts one hand on my head and uses the cloth to scrub my face with some force, but it does feel like it gets the blood off.
"I don't remember," Exeter giggles, just starting to cut Jasper's hair with a very sharp knife. So that's why his hair looks like that. Good to know.
"Me? I mean, I was a foundling so I got given up and switched out so I like to say historical documents raised me," I say.
"I meant him,  I genuinely assumed that one of your bowmen raised you, I forget his name," Jasper says.
"Gareth, yeah," I say, quietly. He won't be worried; he knows where I am, but for me it's been days. He does look out for me.
"And anyway—you say you're the third of your name? Don't you?" Jasper asks.
"Yes," I say, as he finishes wiping my face.
"How if you're a foundling?"
"Oh, because that was my name when I was left. And it wasn't really it was just written in the shirt they had on me so it stuck. And then I looked it up and found two others of this name in the past. So I'm the third," I say.
"Ah, makes senses WILL YOU QUIT CUTTING MY HAIR?" Jasper realizes Exeter is doing it and uses magic to take the knife. Exeter starts giggling uncontrollably.
"Seriously. Something untreatable is wrong with you," Jasper snarls, handing me the knife, "There, present. Keep that. He doesn't need it." He curses Exeter harsher in Welsh.
"That was good, haven't done that in a bit it was getting long, Jas. They'd mistake you for a girl I'm doing you and the lads a favor," Exeter giggles.
"I told you! I had to shave because my face was cut it will grow back, you complete moron. You need to re-examine every part of yourself and change everything. You are the only reason I have nightmares. I cannot stand you," Jasper groans.
They may be in love, I can't tell.
"That's good training for you, for when I kill you, you won't have died in vain it'll be nice, and personally, I'll slit you here to here," he traces a finger on Jasper's throat as Jasper swats him away.  "And peel some skin off and keep a bit of your hair so it's a nice silent version of you none of your weird made up words."
"Welsh is not made up. I'm not having this argument with you again."
I don't know how clear I can make it but, like, these people definitely do not want to kill each other. They probably want to kiss each other truth be told, but nobody's told them that is an option.
"Don't you have things to do? See to your men? Pretend to be a physician?" Jasper asks.
"Where are you two going?"
"Not telling you where I go has kept me very alive for thirty odd years it's one of my favorite life policies," Jasper says, tugging my arm to tow me with him out of the room.
"Aye, just leave me to clean up the bloody rags."
"It's my blood? Thought you'd want it?" Jasper says, magnanimously.
"Oh, ta."
"What was that?" I ask, as Jasper tugs us out into the main hall.
"I have no idea. Also if I do die make sure he doesn't have my skin strung up on the wall someplace and is talking to it. It might not even be him that kills me but don't let him get my body."
"I've got you."
"Thank you."
We make our way up out through the main hall and to the stairs. I don't even remember, at this point, if we were supposed to go back up or not. I assume yes? King Henry ordered us up last time and I'm following Jasper because I'm perpetually lost in this keep. I haven't taken the proper time to understand it, which is a shame, I love properly understanding castles. I think everyone should properly understand a castle or two. Castles are the best.
I'm winded from the stairs. The blood loss plus magic use is getting to me. Jasper isn't much better. His bandage isn't soaked through to his shirt, but his face is lined with pain, and we're both still clearly swallowing blood.
"How is this night not over? Your majesty?" Jasper asks, walking into the drawing room where we left King Henry. He's still here, not looking much better, half leaned over. He has Harri and Prince Edward on either side of the sofa with him, both boys are curled up like puppies, sound asleep. Henry has clearly been reading the Bible to them.
"Your Majesty?" I say, because Henry doesn't move when we enter. I walk over and gently lay a hand on the back of his neck. His skin is cool and almost clammy.
He reaches up, almost painfully, and grips my fingers, clearly wincing.
"Bad?" Jasper asks, settling down on the floor.
"Help me to stand, Gideon," Henry breaths, his face lined with pain, "Just—let me take your arm."
"Here," I come around so he can, and he leans on me, heavily, to rise, tears leaking out of his eyes with effort. Severe arthritis? But why's he numb? Parkinson's feels more likely? Fibromyalgia or even some combination there of? I realize I'm not going to know and the answer could well be anything. Even some sort of slipped disc in his back would account for over half the symptoms.
"Thank you," he breaths, leaning on me a little as he gets his footing. He was always delicate as a bird, but youth and some measure of activity at one point tempered that. He'd have learned to ride, and wear armor, and sword fight.
Kings, child kings, don't get the same tutelage as the average boy. The nobility go through knighthood training. This is under a trusted a knight or a couple of knights, who are responsible for ensuring the boy is tutored on the sword, riding, perhaps jousting, as well as music and reading, and the art of warfare. There's no set way to accomplish this. For say, a lowerborn knight, like Owen Tudor, he served as a page, just learning the ins and outs of sword play and riding, and then he was knighted after serving as a steward for a period. That's all. Someone like King Henry, would have, as a crown prince or a child king, would have tutors from an early age, and then a knight would supervise his general care. Usually, someone like one of his uncles would officially do it, then contract out other bits of it as required. Just like Richard and Hal are under Warwick for their tutelage, he's getting paid expenses to supervise that but he's just housing them and having knights under him do the actual work.
Henry V, did his knighthood training under his uncle Beaufort, but Oldcastle and Fastolf come up as well in providing care for the boy (if those names sounds vaguely familiar it's because Shakespeare was careful not to infringe on a real person's name and changed like one letter). However, Richard II formally put himself in charge of Henry V's care, just farming out the training to a couple of his knights who Henry could follow around.
Sometimes the guy in charge of the training does the work, or at least does some because you know, fun. Richard II did spend time with Henry V at least chatting about warfare (thank you very little) and taking him to war (like you do with thirteen year olds). Similarly, while Henry VI was responsible for Jasper Tudor's training, he contracted tutors and the like. But Henry and Owen Tudor probably did some themselves. Because, you know, Owen is happy to teach his kid how to sword fight and at least practice stuff with him, and Henry VI, a young man, likely would have sparred with his brothers.
Point being, even a generally unwarlike King like Henry VI goes through at least some of the standard child adventures, just maybe not the child endangerment part of the tutelage. The illness is wasting him away, he was when he was stricken down a moderately strong man, especially by modern standards. Yeah, the 'mad king' probably could have beat up most average frat boys, if only because he knew how to wave around a six foot long ten pound sword, while on horse back.
Now though he's a shell of that. Likely he couldn't have risen without aid, I wonder how long he waited? He would never wake the boys to have them help him get up that's not him. And now he asked me and not Jasper because he knows Jasper is hurt.
"Who told you to touch my neck? My father?" Henry asks, quietly, still gripping my arm.
"No, actually. Your father tells me not to speak to you. The Queen told me," I say, kindly. He's a taller man than I, but bent over as he is he's barely at my shoulder. He's trying to use me to straighten up though, however painfully.
"She's so protective," he says, smiling almost.
"Yes, and you need it. Neck, stomach, ankle, fine," Jasper says, lightly, as he adjusts himself on the carpet.
"Both of you don't usually bother me, I've known Gideon since he was dead," Henry says, coughing a little, but getting completely straight.
"It hurts him, or the like, and the queen has yet to forgive me for not telling her, even though he told me not to," Jasper says.
"I'm sure she's forgotten," Henry says, stiffly, walking over to get a pitcher of wine and cups for us. "You can sit down Gideon, that was all. Rest. You look as bad as Jasper."
"I look lovely, thank you. Where'd you get the puppy?" Jasper asks.
"What—oh little Harri? Ned found him lurking outside; he's fine you know that you can always send him to me," Henry says.
"He's a handful," Jasper shrugs.
"He is not; you've met our brothers Jas," Henry says, returning with the wine.
"He has his moments," Jasper says, looking at the sleeping boy fondly, "Poor scrap. I tried to put him to bed hours ago. Days ago it feels like. How long is this night?"
"It's the longest night of the year, the solstice," Henry says, nicely.
I make some sort of guttural noise of pain.
"What is it?" Jasper asks.
"Oh nothing. Ignore me," I say.
"What happened? I don't remember? It's something my father did isn't it?" Henry asks, wincing.
"Siege of Harlech? I also died, and met your father. Not in that order," I say.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. I forgot; of course he did that," Henry says.
"If you had a calendar of days he sieged somewhere it would be colored in, my lord," I laugh a little.
"You died? You didn't—you both have told me about this ignore me I've lost blood," Jasper sighs, "And I'm too damn tired to carry that kid to bed. Again."
"Don't be ridiculous, you're not waking him up. He passed right out," Henry says.
"He did?" Jasper asks, suspicious, "With no begging or complaining or whimpering for one more story?"
"No, he's perfectly sweet. Both boys said their prayers for me and then I read to them from scripture," Henry says, pleased with himself.
"Oh, that'd do it," Jasper nods, like he's not doing that.
"Why? How do you get him to sleep?" Henry asks.
"I talk to him and say 'go to sleep' then he doesn't and he keeps chattering away until I tell him a story then he still doesn't go to sleep and then he keeps chatting to me and eventually I pass out while he's talking and when I wake up he's also asleep," Jasper says.
"Hm, that's how Mags used to get Ned to go to sleep," Henry says, pouring me a glass of wine.
Nobody ever put me to sleep. Well they did. They'd read something and I'd have to lay still. And I'd get yelled at for wiggling or moving. My father would lay his hand across my hands to make me lay still. And then I'd sit there and try not to move and by then I was so worked up from trying not to move I had to calm myself down for hours, but I had to quit moving if someone came in to check. And heaven forbid I crawl underneath the mattress or something comfortable like that.
"I used to fall asleep to the sound of the nurses—chasing my brothers up and down the hall. If they got desperate your father was involved," Henry says.
"I think I was given up on, the nurses just closed the door if I wasn't in bed nobody cared. And my father didn't care he'd not be surprised if I was sneaking to the kitchen in the middle of the night. He'd just see me in the hall and nod and go back to bed," Jasper shrugs.
"I think that's because we broke him long before you got to him, sorry about that," Henry says.
"No, it's fine, you're right, the bar was so low he was just glad Eddie and I didn't kill each other daily," Jasper says, accepting a glass of wine as well.
"Sounds like him. Margret was always going and checking on him at night,  even after the nurses had put him to bed. She'd wonder why I wasn't worried and I just said I assumed he was having fun," Henry says, "That was based off my brothers, however."
"What was he doing?" I ask.
"Having fun," Henry nods.
Jasper snorts, amused.
"Margret said nothing significant happened in the battle? Just more ghosts it was fine?"
"Yes, fine," Jasper says, glancing at me not to contradict the official highly edited story where I road on a ghost snake.
"Yeah, we're just worn out," I say, accepting the wine, "I'm not any closer to finding what wizard is conjuring all this. And every time I rest, there's another assault so I'm right back where I started."
"You need some rest, both of you," Henry says, "God will give us a sign."
"I'd like a big bloody arrow pointing at someone I can let that fool Harry stab," Jasper mutters.
"When we find out who it is we need to find out what they want," Henry says.
"Definitely," Jasper says with zero conviction.
"I've talked to Harry about peace and charity and I will again if he's not getting along with our men. He has great courage, but his temper is quick," Henry severely understates the Duke of Exeter's issues.
"Mmmhmm, you could say that. I'd like to point him at the enemy is all," Jasper says.
As we're saying all this, Harri slides off the sofa, eyes still completely closed. Without opening them, he crawls across the rug to go and flop directly across Jasper's chest, wrapping his arms around his uncle's neck. The little boy sighs, still clearly completely asleep.
Jasper winces in pain, gently trying to move his nephew's arm off the wound without waking the boy.
"Do you want me to get him?" Henry asks.
"He's fine," Jasper says, finishing adjusting the boy's arm and going back to sipping his wine. No, this is not easy while he's completely lying down but straws haven't been invented, so he's doing what he can.
I lean back in my chair, sipping the wine as it goes straight to my head after the blood loss. I'm really tired.  And this room is at least warm. And Henry is here which means he's safe, for now. Though he's apparently not the target. My only consolation is that Richard is likely also tired so I pray to God he's in bed.
Margret comes in quietly, seeing us all mostly sleeping.
"Hello, love," Henry says, holding out a hand gently.
She comes over and takes his hand, wrapping it around her shoulders. He squeezes her to him, pressing his face into her hair.
"Everything's all right. Exeter was energetic so he's supervising security for the night," she says, leaning against him.
"You know best," he says, softly.
"I don't feel it sometimes," she says.
"You are the wisest person I have ever met. God has given you the strength of ten men. I would never wish any other counsel. And England could wish no better queen," he says, pressing his face to the side of hers, like he did to Jasper. She closes her eyes a little. She's as weary as I am."When were engaged. I prayed to God to ask him to show me the path to be a good husband to you. He gave me no answer, and I felt no guide, no way forward. But I'm so glad he gave me you. I don't know what I would have done if he had not given me you."
"You two are my life," she says, looking at their sleeping son, "The only one I want and yet it's threatened and I don't know how to protect it."
"God will give us the way. Even if it is dark sometimes," Henry says, hugging her tightly as he can to him, "Rest now. I'll hold you. I can still do that. Would you like me to read to you?"
"Yes, yes I'd like that," she says, smiling a little as she curls up in the crook of his arm.
He picks up his bible carefully, and beings to read, "Then the king commanded, and they brought Daniel, and cast him into the den of lions. Now the king spake and said unto Daniel, Thy God whom thou servest continually, he will deliver thee. And a stone was brought and laid upon the mouth of the den; and the king sealed it with his own signet, and with the signet of his lords; that the purpose might not be changed concerning Daniel. Then the king went to his palace, and passed the night fasting: neither were instruments of music brought before him: and his sleep went from him. Then the king arose very early in the morning, and went in haste unto the den of lions.  And when he came to the den, he cried with a lamentable voice unto Daniel: and the king spake and said to Daniel, O Daniel, servant of the living God, is thy God, whom thou servest continually, able to deliver thee from the lions? Then said Daniel unto the king, O king, live for ever. My God hath sent his angel, and hath shut the lions' mouths, that they have not hurt me: forasmuch as before him innocency was found in me; and also before thee, O king, have I done no hurt. Then was the king exceeding glad for him, and commanded that they should take Daniel up out of the den. So Daniel was taken up out of the den, and no manner of hurt was found upon him, because he believed in his God."