Like Fire and Powder (Violent Delights Book 18)

Chapter 15: the engagement according to House Tudor

Jasper Tudor

"And then I was very very lost and you didn't come and it was all very confusing and I didn't know where I was and you were supposed to come and find me—," Harry said, the anger of his rant somewhat negated by how tightly he was clutching me in his arms.
"Harry, Harry, I didn't know you were even missing," I said, squeezing him back, "We all thought you were in Burgundy, Margret sent you."
"I was in Burgundy and I was very lost because where I was supposed to go wasn't there and you were supposed to come and find me I thought you would I was lost—,"
"Harry I didn't know you were lost now what happened?" I asked. He'd shown up hours ago, ranting incoherently. He was dreadfully thin and with a few new scars, horribly sunburnt, and had yet to stop hugging me every few minutes.
"I went to Burgundy but the people I was supposed to go to weren't there or something and I got lost and I was in the street and I was very very lost I was looking for you but you weren't finding me and you did say you would find me and then the Yorks found me, and they brought me back to England which was fine I knew you were back in England and so I told them I missed them and I wanted to join them and how much I loved all of them and thought of all of them and then finally they left me alone and I leapt out a window and came home," He said, gripping my shoulders and pressing his forehead against mine.
"This isn't home how did you find us?" I asked.
"You are here. I can always find YOU. You were supposed to find ME. I should be angry," he said, hugging me again very fiercely.
"I'm sorry, Harry, I was going to fetch my nephew I didn't know you hadn't made it back," I said, hugging him.
"You promised," he said, dragging my hand up to look at and leaning in my arms, "See?"
Our hands, matching cuts on our palms from when we were boys. We did a blood oath of friendship. Because we were like ten and had access to very sharp knives.
"I know. I'm very sorry I didn't know you were gone," I said, hugging him tightly, "I won't do it again."
"Good. Don't. You come and you find me, you know I get lost," he said, sinking into my chest, finally calming a bit and not talking so rapidly. Most people, as in no one else, could follow his rants and it took them an hour to admit I was here because he'd been affectionately saying he needed to kill me. He meant smother me in a hug.
"I will. I will always come find you I promise," I said, kissing the scar on his hand.
"I can't help getting lost you know this. I get lost sometimes," he muttered, chewing on the collar of my tunic idly.
"I know. I'm not going to lose you," I said, putting a hand through his hair.
"You had better promise. It was terrible. I kept waiting to see you I looked for you everywhere but you weren't there. And everyday I had to wake up and remember I was alone and far away."
"It was a one off. You won't get that lost again, I promise. And if you do I'll come and fetch you."
And I failed him again.
Hot tears fill my eyes. I can't bring him home can I? I'm not going to find him. I promised him I'd find him. And I didn't. I failed. I left him with Margret he was all right we were supposed to meet in London and if things went south, Wales, and if I'd left Wales then France he knew that. He knew the plan. He was trying to get France that's why he got on that ship. And they threw him off that bloody ship. But he could swim. He could swim my Harry could swim perfectly well so he didn't drown. No he didn't drown. He swam towards France where I was. And he died of exhaustion. And whatever wounds they dealt him throwing him over. And he died and I can't even fucking bury him.
I press my hand to my lips, kissing the scar that once bound us together.
"Harry I'm so sorry," I say, trying to choke back the tears as I stare down at the papers.
Nothing.
None of the corpses match. He had a broken shin bone. From when we went riding we were boys. He broke his leg. It set but that should be on the skeleton and none so far have had a broken leg. I know him. I would know him. I can't find him.
There's a rap at my office door.
I sigh, wiping the tears from my face, "Come in, Maggie."
"I'm sorry if you're busy it's Henry—are you all right?" She asks, no doubt reading my fresh grief on my face.
"Being all right comes and goes, usually goes, what is it?" I ask.
"I know it's your watch but my spy which was your spy but apparently he works for food, Roland, said that Henry went to Elizabeth's rooms a couple of hours ago?" Maggie says, frowning.
"Oh. Yes. They set the date for the wedding, in less than thirty days so, as a New Years gift to us, from us, we are letting situation—go," I say.
"What—oh they wouldn't lie with each other," Maggie says.
"I don't know why not they stare into each other's eyes all the time and he can't stop looking at her hands I think that's the general direction they are heading but we are in the clear as they wed soon enough," I say.
"You could be right," she concedes, nodding a bit.
"I am right, Happy New Year to us both, the kids no longer need chaperoning," I say, toasting her with a cup of wine, "If that was all?"
"What are you working on so late?" She asks, nicely, coming over.
"Nothing," I say, flipping over the papers.
She sees one of them, "Jasper," she says, quietly.
"Don't," I shake my head.
"What do you think I'm going to say?" She asks, gently.
"Give up? It's over? He wouldn't want you doing this he's already gone? He's in heaven and at peace so it's all all right? I know that. I know all that. It doesn't help. It's not all right. It's never going to be all right I didn't bring him home," I say, tears falling down my cheeks, "I didn't bring him home I thought—I can still feel him. It's like he's right there I thought he was here in England, hiding. I thought since I was locked up he just couldn't get to me. I'd get back to Wales he'd be there. He wasn't. He wasn't because I lost him. I failed him. I will never—not have failed him. And it is my fault. And I don't care if he'd forgive me. I don't forgive me."
"I know. And I know words of comfort don't do any good. But he fucking loved you. And if he were here he'd tell you that and hug you," she says, hugging me around the waist, tightly as she can manage, "You take care of all of us, so well. Let us take care of you sometimes?"
"I miss him so much," I say, my breath shaking, as I hug her back, tears just streaming down my face.
"I know you do. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry you didn't know," she says.
"I miss them all. I don't understand I don't—know why I had to be the one to survive. And I want them all back," I sob, chocking on my tears, as she holds me as tightly as she can.
"I know. All that has kept me strong is that it must be God's plan."
"I hate God's fucking plan. My brother loved him, he trusted god to save him now he's dead his son is dead—I know there aren't any answers I'd settle for just one," I say, wiping my tears from my face with one hand.
"I know. I'm sorry," she says, softly.
"It's not you. I'm glad I still have you, and that kid," I sigh.
"For what it's worth? I'm thrilled you saved him. Thank you so much for saving him," she says, "That's all we have. Hope. The next generation gets some days in the sun. We had ours. However brief."
"Yes," I know she's had pain.
"One afternoon. When I was twelve, I wasn't wed. You and Edmund were my protectors. And I was glad because they told me I was being looked after by the king's brothers, these brave knights. And I had new tutors, and better toys. It was sunny and I'd done all my lessons so I got to go out and play in the grass with this toy horse. I was so happy," she smiles a little bit, remembering.
I sigh.
"That was the last time I was innocent. A few weeks later they told me I was going to get married," she says, "But that day I got to be happy. Maybe a few moments, that's all we get."
"I know I got years, with all of them. But it's not enough, I'm selfish, I suppose. I want them back here where I can take care of them," I say.
"I know you do," she says, gently, "But I'm glad you're here. And Henry's here. We have something to hold onto."
I nod, wiping my face.
"He's happy. We are getting better," she says.
"I'll say he's happy," lovesick puppy. Good for him, he has enough cares. "I'm glad the girl likes him, weird as he is. Christ, he's a weird kid always has been. I was worried about that plus the sickly part."
"She seems to like him. Do we think that's all right?" She asks, slowly.
"We've been keeping them apart a bit. She's been following him around as much as he is her," I say, softly, "He's not Edmund."
She looks away.
"I'm not twenty two and intimidated by both my older brothers. I know that boy. He's fine," I say.
"Okay," she nods.
"You trust me?"
She nods.
"They're dumb kids. He has a good heart. I promise," I say, "He's not like that."
"What is he like? He doesn't show me. He doesn't show anyone. It's all performance. I feel like, like I never know him," she says, staring out the window at the dark.
"He's like himself. That's it. He's himself he's not like me or Edmund, and he's a young man so he's not sure what he is yet. His plans for the future and his tax ideas and all that? That's who he is. If anything he's like my brother the king, all that—paperwork, makes him happy and it sounds like it's superficial or just filling up space but, no, that's where his heart is, and if he's explaining it to you then that means he trusts you. Like a dog, bringing a stick," I explain.
"He was telling me about that, at dinner," she says.
"Means he likes you. I promise it's—yeah I guess he's like my brother, also a Henry, perhaps it's a Henry thing I don't know," I say, staring off. Memories of my brother, gently explaining his precious colleges, for hours. I didn't understand it, but I'd lie on the floor and listen because talking it through made him happy.
"And then we'll have twelve scholars who are on full scholarship. Everyone deserves the chance to learn. Nobody wants to fund it, they all drag their heels, but if my father could fund wars I can fund education. I know I'm not a great king but god made me king for a reason, so I can help England," he said, passionately, sitting folded up and backward in a chair looking at his beloved plans.
"You will," I said, encouragingly. I'd not understood half his finances.
"When you have a son you could send him to Eaton, that way not everyone has to be a knight if they don't want," he said, happily, stroking one of the pages.
"Yes," I said.
He thought I'd have a son. And he'd get to live to see his colleges built. King's College, right next to Eaton so the scholars could transfer over. He set it up exactly, and administrated it himself. He loved it, he'd talk aloud as he did it.
My nephew is the same way, a dozen schemes, managing taxes, managing finances. Ever since he was a boy, I'd let him count our money, he'd tell me how to budget it. I'd let him, it amused him, so he was in charge of that. And he was good at it. I knew how, but he loved it.
"He's happy. We did that, god help us," I say, offering her my cup of wine.
"Do we really think that —situation, is all right?" She asks, "We're really leaving them alone together?"
"Maggie, if they are going to lie together, consider it's better for the girl she's got her sister right there and she can leave she is bigger than him—rather than on their wedding night where they're purposefully alone?" I say, gently. She's had a wedding night. We both know how that went she fell pregnant almost immediately. Edmund swore to our father he only lay with her on their wedding to consummate the marriage. Our father took it. I didn't fully not that I've asked her it hardly is for me to know.
"That's true, and she's not a child," she says, softly.
"She's not. I call her a child however, she is twenty years old. And can't keep her eyes off him," I say, "And they marry in five weeks."
"My case aside, it's not even likely they'd conceive," she admits, a bit hesitantly.
"Don't get religious on me," I say, smiling.
"I can if I like, devil," she says, the last part in welsh, making it profane.
I laugh.