King of the Sea (Violent Delights Book 3)

Chapter 2: "Vaulting ambition which o'erleaps itself"

Readying me to go to Berkhampsted takes an age. First my father must write to my brother to ask him. In all technicality my father can tell him to mind me, but we're not like that. My father's never been like that. He's king, but he's also our father and if we've a solid objection to something then he's fair enough to hear us out. If Ned had protested in some manner that he had other commitments or some affair going and did not want his little brother about, then my father would have honored that. I do fear that for a time, that Ned perhaps, with the plague on, had found entertainment in some local girl, and wouldn't want it getting back to our parents. And let's face it, I'd absolutely tell. I would, everyone in the family knows I would. Last Easter Lionel was pensive and Ned asked me first what was wrong. Lionel was two seats away. I did of course have the answer but that is not the point. The point is they all think it of me so they don't disclose their secrets readily, that of course doesn't stop me from having them.
Ned's reply comes back cheerfully in the affirmative. That he's quite bored and he'll accept as many little brothers as they've a mind to send. Naturally it's just me. Lionel has his own household under our mother, and he's still a bit shy. Constantly growing, he's nearly as tall as our father already, and his health is more delicate than mine I think, he's terribly thin and always been, and he's been known to take ill from the heat.
I'm the adventurous one, and have always been morbidly healthy. The plague never touched me even though our father was sick with it for a time. And unlike my siblings I've had no fevers. I'm only nine, but like Lionel I'm tall for my age, though unlike Lionel I'm stout for my age. I pass for thirteen or fourteen easily. I'd look Lionel's twin, except he's red haired and thin as a sapling, and I'm twice his weight already.
I'm more Edmund's twin. Or he's mine. Edmund is only a year my junior, with the luck of being born by the time our parents were home in England, unlike me born on foreign shores. That matters little to me, just to everyone else. But, Edmund is just younger than me born the next summer, and while by all accounts we should be interchangeable we are distinctly not. We could not look less alike, well perhaps we could but not by much. Edmund is small for his age, delicate as a baby bird and just as gentle. He's our father's copy in feature, though he's dark haired but that's about all. Soft spoken, and nervous in crowds he's our mother's pet, lurking about her skirts in public, and in private retreating to his books and his dogs. The word 'simple' came up a lot in conversations with no longer employed physicians. He's clever enough, but so far has only used his cleverness to obtain sweets or get out of social interactions.
As a rule I act as his buffer, he looks like he's six, I look like I'm at least twelve, it's a good enough match. I look out for him when we do have to be out. And at home we both pursue our true passions. For me, building my power, and for him being alone.
He takes my going the hardest.
"You shall be away? All summer?" He asks, very quietly, knotting the bed sheets and he sinks down below the covers.
"Get out of my room!" I cry.
"But I wanted to talk to you."
"Ed. We've been over this. And over it. Sneaking into my room and hiding in my bed is a really. Really. Really. Really. Weird way of starting a conversation," I sigh.
"Where've you been anyway? I've been waiting hours," he whispers, sinking lower into the blankets, dark hair standing stiffly on end.
"Hiding under tables listening to conversations, then I got almost caught. I got caught being up, so I played chess and dice with some of father's men who think I'm amusing. I'm not amusing. Get. Out," I lean against the door arrogantly.
"Why are you going to stay with Ned anyway?" He asks.
"Because it'll be fun, and mother and father said I could, get out, now, and—oh god take the dog with you! Ed!" I sigh, as I see he has a puppy in there tucked in bed with him.
"D'you think they'll send me away?" He asks, chewing his lip.
"No," I sigh, sitting down on the bed, "Get out of my room."
"Why? I'd like a cuddle."
"You're too old for a cuddle. And you don't deserve one."
"I hate you."
"I know," I nod.
"You're a rotten brother," he says.
"I'm a rotten person, I'm an excellent brother. Get it right, now, final warning, get out," I say.
"Final warning before what?"
I throw a sheet over him, wrap him up in it, and then begin to drag him outside. I'm decently big enough and strong enough to accomplish this. My coordination leaves a lot to be desired, but that could be the fault of the boy in the blanket who is fighting like a wet cat thrown in a nest of hounds. He's also screaming which is very dramatic given his current situation.
The nurses allow me to carry on at this point they likely assume my father sanctioned the event, which he would. The screaming wakes Lionel, however.
"What've you got in there?" He asks, rubbing his head as he steps from his room.
"Edmund in a blanket."
"SAVE ME!!! LI COME AND SAVE ME HE'S GOING TO FINALLY MURDER ME!"
"When I murder you I'm hardly going to do it by dragging you places in a blanket for all the world to see, now am I? That's illogical. I'd never get away with it," I say.
"That's true, Ed, he'd never be so obvious about it. This is John. If John wants us dead, we'll be the last ones to know about it," Lionel says.
"Did —did nobody else hear him say 'when I murder you'?" Edmund squeaks.
"I said 'if' that blanket is affecting your hearing," I say.
"Look I'm sure he's got something nice prepared for all of us, which history will never uncover, now keep it down," Lionel goes back in his room.
I get him as far as the stairs before my arms get tired, so I just tie the blanket up and leave him in there and go on back to bed. I'm short a blanket but I'm not about to go and retrieve it, so I send the servants for a new one, sleeping in the peace only known when one's little brother is too meek and mild to retaliate for minor transgressions.
The next morning, I don't get in any trouble for it either. Edmund skips out of his lessons and the like having spent the night in a stairwell knotted in a blanket not clever enough to get free. Eventually the nurses put together a few context clues, such as Edmund sobbing 'I HATE JOHN' upwards of an hour upon being discovered, and report me to my mother.
"Didn't you realize he'd be trapped?" My mother asks, resignedly, well aware she willingly got us with our father who isn't being told because he'd find the incident incredibly funny.
"Yes, but in my defense, I did think he'd be carrying a knife," I say.
"Why would he be carrying a knife to bed?"
"I have a knife in bed. I thought we all did."
"All right so do I, but apparently your brother does not. We know that now. Is there a—good reason you'd leave him tied up in a blanket in the stairs all night?"
"He's not going to miss me a bit now is he?"
"You make a good point. Go apologize all the same," she says.
I do make an honest effort to go and apologize. I think Edmund is mean spirited in the end and that's why it doesn't go well. He's holed up in his room, cuddled under three blankets, which is odd you'd think I'd have put him off the entire concept of blankets.
"I apologize for locking you in the stairwell tied in a blanket, I am truly sorry," I say, contritely.
"You are not. You thought it was funny," he says, hiding under three blankets.
"You're right I'm not a bit sorry it's still funny to me," I say.
He does not at all appreciate my sincere apology. Perhaps he's simply slow to forgive. I chose instead to carry on with my life and not concern myself with my little brother's whims.
I keep anticipating my mother calling it off, so I don't dare feel pleased with myself until I'm completely on my way. Berkhampsted isn't terribly far from Windsor, but it is a good day's ride and so I'm to set off early in the morning.
My father isn't around when I'm to depart, so it's just my mother and siblings to see me off. Edmund is cross with me for some reason and hides in our mother's skirt, barely shaking my hand. My sisters save Isabella are indifferent at my departure, and Isabella seems downright pleased. Lionel is the only one genuinely saddened, he's losing a playmate and I'm charming company even if I'm three years younger than he is I'm still cleverer and that counts for something.
My mother and I feign the proper amount of sincere melancholy at our parting. No one thinks I'm the favorite child, but she's known for her maternal tenderness and so it is important we be saddened. It's a performance naturally. We both trust the other to survive in our absence.
Most of the attendants who ride with me shan't stay, though they're pleased enough for the errand. Besides that Ned is the crown prince and entirely well loved, the fact remains that being ten years my senior, he's only nineteen himself. Already a distinguished war hero and well renown among knights and citizens alike, he's quite the young man and his court will be infinitely more entertaining for other young men.
For that very reason I'm not sure if it will be entertaining for me. However, it's humanly impossible not to like Ned. It's less that he oozes charm as our father does, and more that he genuinely believes every bit of it. If he greets you as a friend it's because he wishes to be your friend. He's kind to his enemies and entirely trusting, though not strictly slow to anger once his temper flares he's quite ruthless. That's the part I enjoy. And I'm well aware it's the part my mother wishes to put into check. She's tasked me with nothing yet, she considers me still in training. However, good men lead short lives. And my eldest brother is distinctly in a good man. But that can't be helped. Men like me exist for a reason. I'll mind him well enough when the time comes. That's why it's best I start now. We'll be king someday he and I. Him in name. And I in practice.
Berkhampsted is set on acres of hunting grounds. It was one of our father's favorite castles, and so he gave it to Ned, as it's closer than Cornwall or Wales. He's spent most of the plague here, being bored as I understand from his letters.
It's a lovely keep, well guarded within circles of stone of walls, not large like Windsor so I don't anticipate being lost. But I make note as we enter. I've only been here perhaps once before usually Ned comes to us. He's only Ned in my mind, of course. The rest of the world calls him Prince Edward, or the Prince of Wales. Within the family he's Ned that's what our parents called him when he was a boy. His men will call him other things, partly if they're going incognito to a joust or the like, or just because. If you're Prince of everything it's nice to have your mates call you by a regular name like a common man. I do not want to be a common man nor have I ever, nor do I like feeling like a real person. Therefore everyone who isn't my family who can't be ruled by me call me Prince John. If any of my siblings start having children they shall also call me Prince John, I'll have to start them early.
We are escorted in, which is to say I'm led in to the keep. My attendants rapidly evaporate as we progress inside, off to find their own amusements in my brother's court. I understand the sentiment but I still fault them for it. Still I'm trying not to seem a petulant child so I say nothing, they're unlikely to be ruled be me in my youth.
Ned is not particularly waiting to see me, but he's clearly been warned of my entrance and is loitering near the kennels. He's with his usual companions, Brocas and Burley most notably. Burley's the son of his old tutor, and Brocas the son of our master of the hounds. Fit companions for a prince, and with a royal upbringing such loyal followers come with the territory. My father has his own set of particular knights for this very reason. I have no particular male friends. Just the girls who play with my sisters.
I haven't seen my brother since the last tournament, and we didn't speak much then. He's looking well as ever. Everyone likes Ned. Even when I've decided to be cross with him I get around him and I instantly forget why I decided I was cross. He's like our father, he simply radiates warmth, except with our father some of that is learned, with Ned it's innate. If I said to him right now I wanted to go home he'd chat with me about it and see that it was done. He's just a good man.
Women must not think so though. He's unmarried still, despite being nineteen and well old enough. With dark curls, and swarthy as our mother, but in feature handsome like our father, and nearly a head taller than our father, he's a striking figure and quite recognizable to the crowds of London, has been since he was a baby which should foster more arrogance than he currently possesses. He's been synonymous with 'crown Prince' for nearly twenty years and every boy in England worships him. I'd be a fool not to do the same he's annoyingly brilliant. His one true flaw is that, he's generally good natured and that tends to kill men. Or worse, ruin their reputation.
"Johnny! Was the ride down all right?" Ned asks, tugging me into an embrace. He purposefully received me here I'm sure. My father's general trick to get around customs and courtesies. There's a time and a place and we all bow properly in public and the like, but in private we behave as a real family.
"Yes, I was well, mother sends her love," I say. She did not she trusted me to say that. We understand that sort of thing.
"I'm sure she was loathe to part with you. Anyway, I should let you go and get settled, you'll be in with the pages," he says, lightly.
"Yes, of course," I say, softly. I was well aware of that. Our father has made clear if we're to be knighted or the like we'll earn it properly. We get favors that offset the oddities of our birth, especially those of us who are young enough simply to be hated for our position and not old enough to hold higher titles. Now, I didn't have to come here and do this, I could have begged out of it and been an Edmund or something pathetic like that. However. I do not wish to be seen as soft. If I'm to accomplish what I wish in life being an honorable knight, and known to be brave will put me in good rapport with my fellow men who I must manipulate. Moreover, it puts me solidly in Ned's court which is the ideal spot for my future endeavors.
"Right, well you're—I never decided that? Anyone got a coin?" Ned asks, holding out a hand.
"No, please," Burley sighs, looking at me with something like horror.
"Yes right here," Brocas hands him a coin, smiling with the cheerfulness of an free man.
"Right—oh blast heads, looks like that's you Burley," Ned says, flipping the coin.
"That's how you pick my tutor?" I ask. My mouth gets covered which I did anticipate. I can't be too agreeable he'd think I'd come down with something.
"You're supposed to call it first—that isn't fair, no, just look at him—," Burley sighs.
"He's the good one, the one my mother likes best, see? He's very nice," Ned says, sort of shaking me not unlike a mother dog shakes an unruly puppy, hand still firmly over my mouth, other hand balling up the back of my tunic to lift me off the ground with one arm. That's how strong he is just generally.
"You're covering his mouth," Burley says.
"Yeah I know he's sweeter that way," Ned says. So he knows me. That can't be good.
"Christ," Burley says, sounding less like he's cursing and more like he's asking for actual guidance.
"He'll be grand, won't you, Johnny? He likes books and being cleverer than everyone else it's fine? What? Why are you glaring? Is that not what you like?" Ned asks, looking down at me and finally freeing my mouth.
"Yes it is but I was disappointed you knew that. I'm also fond of money," I say.
"See? He's honest, go on then, you'll want to get yourself sorted, and send a message back to mother saying how well I look, and productive," he says.
"You're drinking by the kennels at noon chatting with your friends? You're asking me to lie? To our dear mother?" I ask, hand on my chest.
Ned looks at me for a solid moment before we both start laughing.
Burley mutters something, and I can't quite make out what, but it sounds distinctly like "I'm going to die aren't I?"