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

Chapter 8: Siri, play 'Bleed Out' by the Mountain Goats

Certain circles is King Henry. As it happens.
"THAT'S HOW YOU DID THAT TO YOURSELF?"
"Yeah—?"
"Gideon, when I asked you what happened you blamed Courtenay," Henry cries. He's not even shouting at me, he's just disappointed, and hurt. Which is worse.
"Ultimately, like everything is Courtenay and your father's fault if you really think about it," I say, shrugging a little. After relatively little delays we made it back inside to have our post battle audience with the king. We say it like that, like we're briefing him or something, we absolutely are not. He's fussing over our injuries and being concerned about us and generally acting like a concerned mom (I didn't have one of those, I've read about them though).
"I can't even debate that. It is—Gideon that's awful! Does it not hurt?"
"He's looked like that my whole life. He's very clearly completely fine," Jasper says, holding Harri sideways as the little boy grins, perfectly happy to have his uncle back. Harri apparently sat out the battle with King Henry, which was something like torture, because apparently King Henry makes anyone who does that with him pray with him.
"Mother, he made me pray the whole time and total disclosure I think I swore at God," Prince Edward mumbles, pathetically wrapping his arms around his mother's waist, she's half in armor like the rest of us, mostly getting out of it. I was helping her, but King Henry kidnapped me so now the Duke of Exeter is. Her ladies in waiting hover like they don't trust him, because they have brains and eyes, but he's also more adept at the armor than they and strong enough to lift off her chainmail easily.
"I know, thank you for staying safe with your father," Queen Margret says, petting her boy's hair. I watch them for a moment, my stomach still sick. He's eleven. More than that they both adore him. What does he do that's so terrible? What crime does he commit that the rest of us don't? We're all really awful people here I'm not going to lie. King Henry is not included in that, he may be an angel. He does everything he can not to do bad things.
"Gideon, look at me. Does it not hurt?" King Henry asks, touching my face delicately, "You lied to me because you knew I'd never let you do this."
"Lie is a strong word, technically it was Courtenay's idea we do the spell now, so it's like, legally his fault. But sorry for the deception, your majesty, I had a lovely time. And I wouldn't change it. For anything," I say, looking as Prince Edward scurries back over to his father, tugging his sleeve.
"Father, come help me tell mother I didn't beg to go join the battle," Prince Edward says, hopefully.
"You did," Henry says, amusement in his eyes, "Now, go apologize to your mother for lying. She knows you've only got her spirit."
"Oh, so you weren't that good for your father, thought as much," Queen Margret says, passing and cuffing the boy's head fondly. He rolls his eyes like they're both a pain.
"Go see the physician, both of you," King Henry says, still more upset about this than I am or ever will be.
"Did someone say physician?" The Duke of Exeter, completely happy, drawing what looks like a knife and approaching Jasper.
"A real physician," I and Jasper and Queen Margret and Prince Edward say at the same time.
"I'm fine," Jasper says.
"Jasper, blood is coming out of your eyes."
"Oh, so it is," Jasper wipes his face with his sleeve.
"I'm fine too, my lord," I say.
"Gideon, can you even see out of that eye?" King Henry asks, upset.
"What's wrong with my eye?" I ask.
So that's how I find out one of the scars runs over my left eye, and now that eye is completely white. Which is so cool looking. The scars aren't that bad, like you can see them yes, but they're not bad looking. I think they look neat. I can think of about seven people who will not agree with me, but it's my face. Anyway, the white eye I can see out of just fine and I don't look at myself in the mirror if I can help it so I don't much care.
I finish washing up and leave the mirror. I don't truly care anyway. And I'm not hurt. I'm more concerned about the wizards. More free masons I assume, like I and my friends discovered before there's a league of wizards that do what I can do, but like, they're more organized. I've tangled with them before, but only briefly. So this time the mission was to kill Prince Edward?
It's true there's little to no historical data regarding the boy. Beyond his birth, and general movements. He's on the run with his parents and out of the spotlight, then killed at the age of seventeen at the battle of Tewksbury. It's rumor that the Yorks killed him personally, it's likely he died in battle. Nothing remarkable there. There's a rumor that he at age ten told his mother to cut off the heads of some men who had jailed King Henry, but that's not really damning nor is it even likely to be true. I don't get it. He obviously does something. And I did say he has his grandfather's spirit. But what the hell? Let him have his fun. His ancestors did. Do his worst. There will always be wizards to keep him in check later. Right now he's a kid and his parents don't deserve to lose their only son,
Changed and cleaned up I head down for lunch, I know King Henry will be expecting me, but for now I'm avoiding him. I know it's time for me to go home. First though, I have some goodbyes to say.
"Jasper, do you know where the York party was?" I ask, finding him near the kitchens, negotiating with Harri for things the boy will eat.
"By the gate, they're heading back, Queen's finished with 'em. The boys are getting the horses. Certain circles exercised their authority and insisted we give them horses that —and I helped Harry count— we can't actually spare," Jasper says.
"Sounds just like certain circles," I smile, well aware he means King Henry.
"You heading off?" Jasper asks.
I nod, "Soon here. Yeah."
He nods a bit, smiling a little, "Don't take care of yourself. I won't recognize you."
"I won't," I smile too. We high five, and I wave at Harri. He waves back, clinging to Jasper's leg.
"Be good for your uncle, little warrior," I say. I won't see either of them again for many years, and I know it.
I leave then. I hate goodbyes. I'm no good at them. But I've got several more to go.
I make my way back to the gate, and sure enough find the boys loading up a big bay charger, and a much smaller black pony. They are enamored of the pony, clearly arguing about what to call it and petting it and explaining to it that it's a York pony now.
"So you're headed out then?" I ask, leaning against the gate post.
"Yes," Richard says, straightening a bit as he finishes cinching a bag onto the pony's saddle.
"Take care, it's a long road," I say.
"We will, we've got each other," Hal says, pushing Richard a little to get at something on the saddle.
"Thank you, for your help," Richard says, wiping his palms on his jacket, "I—I hope I do not meet you in battle one day."
"I hope the same," I say, smiling a bit, "Do take care of each other, all right? And don't sass Lord Neville without witnesses?"
The boys smother grins.
"You fought bravely, both of you," I say.
"I know," Richard says, but he smiles as he says it.
"I hope we meet again under, better circumstances. It's been an honor, my lord," I say, bowing to him.
Richard smiles a bit, and returns the bow, "My lord."
"Have an old Gaelic blessing, 'Mo sheacht mbeannacht ort! 'My seven blessings on you'," I say. We say similar in Wales, and I've heard my ancient Irish friend Oisin use it as well. I translate from the ancient tongue when both boys frown.
I leave them to their work, they get right back to bickering, very little concern or delay. They're only young. They don't know what danger they were in. And they think it's fun at that age. Not that I don't still think it's fun but I'm aware it's a problem.
I spare a glance back just once. Richard is clearly directing Hal to get on the pony. The smaller boy is asking for a leg up. Richard sighs, and comes help his friend to mount, then he climbs up as well. Shoulders just a bit tipped, barely noticeable beneath his black cloak. Big blue eyes shining with light. He smiles and chats with his friend. He had no fear of death when the creatures came for him. He doesn't care. He was raised to be a warrior. It follows he'll die like that one day. And yet I pray in this time and place he does not.
I make my way back through the keep. I happen upon the boys playing in the yard. Harri and Prince Edward are at it with toy swords. Jasper and the Duke of Exeter and the Queen are conferring and minding them a bit, not even bothering really. A couple of governesses stand by with concern. But the boys, for their part, are laughing. Prince Edward is much bigger, but he's amused when his young cousin trips him, and the boys wind up wrestling more than sword fighting. Dark hair falls in Edward's eyes, his cheeks flushed from cold. What trouble do you get to be, little one? I don't care. That's for some other day. Perhaps I'll die at his hand. I don't care. We all die someday. Let it come and take me. I am as bad as Richard I think. I fear no battle, just wonder softly which one will claim me one day. And I'd have it no other way.
I finally find King Henry on the balcony of the Keep. He is watching them play below, leaning on the bannister, gold curls ruffled by the wind. His soft dark eyes are bloodshot, face lined with pain.
"Your Majesty," I bow.
"Gideon, come to me," he sighs, a little, "You know it's time?"
"I can stay! I'm not doing anything I go back to the same point in time—and the Yorks still have the throne and we all know Warwick isn't any good and—,"
"Gideon," he says gently.
"Yes, my lord?" I wince a little.
"You've been here, long enough. And you must know I love your company, old friend. But Wales needs you," Henry smiles gently.
"I know. And I'll go back but—,"
"You wrote to me with the last set of letters we got. Said you were coming for Christmas and I'd soon know why. You're a wonder Gideon," he shakes his head.
"Ah," so my future self will come here within a few days time, "Good on me for sabotaging myself."
"I'm sure you've been dying to talk with Jasper about all the things you oughtn't have just done," Henry says, amused.
"Sounds like me," I say.
He reaches out and takes my hand, very gently, curling the crosslet ring into my scarred fingers. He closes his shaking hand over mine.
"No," I say, tears leaking down my face, "It'll still work—I'll—,"
"Gideon. It is over. I only called to you because I feared for my son. I long ago put my life in God's hands. I want no magic, no aid. Just to die with my wife at my side," he says, tears in his eyes as well, "I pray you too will know such a peace one day. God watches over all of us, it is in him I put my trust. Look at me, Gideon," and I look in his face, hot tears spilling down my cheeks, "I'm ready. When God chooses to call to me, I will go."
"I will come," I say, quietly.
"I know. God put you in this world for your strength, and so many others have need of it. I do not claim to know his plan. Or why he gave me this. But there is a purpose. Go and do good in this world, it needs you, so much," he says.
"I do not want to lose you," I say, tears spilling down my cheeks.
Henry grips me around the shoulders, tightly, with strength I didn't know he still had in his limbs, hugging me to his chest. I hug him back, sobbing.
"Let me go now," he says, closing his hand back over the ring, "I thank you for all that we've had. But it's time."
I try to swallow my tears, nodding, "I'm sorry."
"Never apologize for your heart, brave one," he says, with a shaking hand wiping tears from my cheek, "It's all right. Do not weep for me. I am where God wishes. Be it here, or in heaven."
"I'm going to miss you," I whisper, wiping my own face with the back of my hand.
"And I you. And from your letter I'll see you in a few days. And if memory serves you will see me in a few minutes," he smiles, "We've had quite the adventure, once again, dear friend."
"Thank you, my king," I smile.
He does as well, blinking tears from his eyes.
"Stay with me?" I ask, softly, "As I go?" I don't actually know how this is going to work.
"Of course," he says, "We never really leave those we love. The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace."
He holds my shoulder, firmly, pressing his forehead against mine. I squeeze my eyes shut, and carefully, pull the ring off.
And I'm falling again.
Falling into nothing.