Violent Ends (Violent Delights Book 19)

Chapter 2: the Death according to John, Duke of Bedford

"Don't remember me like this, John. Don't tell them about the pain," Henry breaths, tears streaming down his face as he clutches his chest in pain as he nearly doubles over from it.
"I won't," I say, softly.
"Take care of my France," he says, putting a hand to his face.
"I will. And we'll tell your son about the sieges eh?"
"Yes, Melun, he's a boy he'll enjoy that. We wanted war stories when our father was home d'you remember?" He asks, leaning back against the pillows.
"Yeah," I say, feeling a tear slip down my cheek, "I'll tell him about the joust."
Henry nearly smiles through the pain, "Yes, the joust."
We'd been on siege in Melun for weeks. It was just after the wedding, so everyone was understandably glad to be back at war. Everyone being Henry. Henry was glad to be back at war. We as a triumvirate of brothers with the triumvirate of uncles and cousins, had come to the general consensus that Henry would not take very well to married life nor would he fall prey to the girl's beauty. And she is a pretty girl and quite clever, it was the clever bit that gave rise from concern in some factions for Henry is fond of cleverness. But we really didn't think he'd do well with it.
But we had no idea he'd react that badly.
No sooner was the marriage certificate and the treat signed than Henry was, true to character, gleefully taking over management of the French government. Nothing cheers Henry like administration. And he did with clear and obvious joy.
The wedding itself was a solider's wedding, with as little expense to the English crown as possible. He kissed her and I swear they both blushed. And he went to her on his wedding night and Humphrey and I had to spend the entire time acting like we knew he'd had women before in his life which was not something either of us thought had happened.
And on the very next day, who was having me woken up but my brother the king? We were marching out in a day, get ready.
"Is—Catherine coming with us?"
"Yes she's coming back to England but for now these soldiers have contracts that are still good and towns still obey the Dauphin," Henry said, eagerly, "We've war awaiting us."
"You've paperwork awaiting you," I said, suspiciously.  He'd taken over the French government I thought that would keep him happy for perhaps a week.
"They were speaking of a joust," Henry admitted, darkly, "Games. A series of events. I'm not doing that, or wasting the crown's money. We're going to war."
"Social function, there it is, yeah I'm coming," I said, going to ready the men.
And so we packed up the entire French royal family, I assume they did not love this, and took them with us. There was grumbling from the soldiers that their king got to have his wife along but they still were not allowed prostitutes in camp. Humphrey and I assured them beyond a shadow of a doubt that Henry would prove his chastity and focus on the cause of God.
And Henry without encouragement installed his new bride nearly four miles away in a house, with her mother and father, and then came and warred with us. He was nearly pretending they weren't there beyond trotting Charles out to tell them to surrender. This did not work nor did Henry want it to.
Melun was a fine siege. Cannons blazing day and night. Henry lodged in his tent with us and all was as before. I and our uncle Beaufort, who had been up for the wedding, decided we should do something about that and the nineteen year old bride.
"Maybe go and have dinner with Catherine, remind her you're about," our uncle said.
"I'm busy here, she's well," Henry said, briskly.
"We're not talking stay the night," Humphrey had no sense of self preservation.
"Did you speak Humphrey?" Henry snarled.
"No," Humphrey had some small sense of self preservation.
"She's probably a bit lonely might have supper with her," I said, shrugging.
"I do not need your opinion, gentleman, on my wife," Henry said, venomously.
"So you've provided for her entertainment as we spoke of?" Beaufort was not to be deterred. "As is Christian?"
"Yes," Henry said.
He'd sent one of his minstrels to play for her, but only at dawn and at dusk, the time he wasn't using the minstrel and was with his cannons. I do not know how she reacted to this but I hope that with time and love for their child she'll find it endearing. Just like I find the time he woke me up at midnight, because I'd cried earlier from getting in trouble he got us into, with the offer of hearing him play one melody on his harp, endearing. We were seven and five I thought he had possibly developed different methods of showing affection. Clearly not. Unfortunately the only new person he'd ever tried to show affection to responded just beautifully to insults and the occasional sad harp playing, so that didn't do us any good.
But the siege was going just lovely. We were able to set up mines, unlike bloody Rouen, and the gun stones were shattering the walls. They refused to surrender which made it all the more fun.
And then the fateful morning came.
The mines had been met.
We were going to have fighting.
I was awoken with the news, and met Humphrey and James of Scotland outside our tents, which is where we observed our monarch not only change his expression, but also smile.
"I've never seen him that happy before," I said.
"I've never seen him change his expression before," James said.
"Is he putting on jousting things?" Humphrey asked, hands over his face.
"That he is," I said.
"Does he—not know how to joust?" James asked.
"No, he does not," Humphrey breathed.
"That doesn't mean he'll be bad at it," I said, a little tiredly, "Come on boys, let's go we'll want to be involved in that as well."
Humphrey, under his breath, " 'Jousting's a waste of time. The real mettle of a man is tested in war. You don't need to joust to prove your worth. Do you know how many people have died in jousting? Well the inside of my head is a great big massive roll of everything that's ever happened so I'll just tell you'—,"
"Humphrey, you can't really be mad still that he wouldn't let you joust using the dogs, when you were three," I said.
"I can! I can be mad about all kinds of things at the same time. I'm a Lancaster," Humphrey grunted, "And he STILL says jousting is a waste of time."
"Unless in war which this is," James had heard the speech as well.
"Yes, well, if he'd actually practiced then that would be beneficial to what we are about to become involved in," Humphrey said, snatching his helmet from one of the men.
"You're just cross because he's going to be immediately great at it despite having not practiced in a solid ten years and that was tilting against me and Thomas to get away from Kenilworth at Christmas," I laughed.
"Yes! Yes I am!"
"I mean, he's usually great at things because he's taller than everyone else and because he does things like—,"
"I'm going to joust them without my colors, and then fight them left handed," Henry informed us, nearly grinning, as we came up, "They say Barbazon is going to fight as well."  Barbazon was the commander of Melun.
"Well then yeah, wouldn't want them knowing you're king might not play with you," I said.
"Precisely."
"My dear liege and brother, have you ever jousted?" Humphrey asked, breathing deeply.
"Do not cite to me your odds, little brother. I do not wish them today," Henry said, but he was smiling.
"That's a no," I said to James, "Not since we were boys. Our sword master made him do it right handed even when he complained because he kept knocking Thomas off his horse and he'd cry."
"Did he—,"
"He still knocked Thomas down yeah."
"Go to your horses," Henry said, going to mount his deep brown charger. The noble horse had not been in mines before but was incredibly sound.
"Is he—?" James spun a hand.
"Happier than on his wedding night yeah you can say it," I said, taking my helmet, "Come men, we'll have stories about this day."
And we did.
The mine was wide enough for the tilt, but only just. I recognized Barbazon's colors on the opposite end of the tilt. Henry was shrewd enough to take Cornwall's colors. Cornwall was just eternally amused by this and handed them over without question.
Henry was the bigger man, he always was, and his charger despite lack of experience in the mines, was sound. He de horsed Barbazon on the first tilt, and then dismounted so that both men could go to the swords. The rest of us fell in behind our king. The fighting was noble and just, all in good sport as it were. There is no killing in the mines. It is a duel of honor.
None the less we were properly bloodied by the time the shaft was beginning to collapse. Henry had been fighting chiefly Barbazon but also a few of his own close men, for some time, and despite our default to his lead, he was not wearing his colors as our king. None the less he was clearly a great knight, in fine armor and with kingly weapons.
"Who are you?" Barbazon called, as shaft began to collapse above us.
"Henry, King of England," Henry said, a smirk on his ruined face as he tugged his helmet free. His look was famous throughout France and I myself had heard rumors of what they believed his scar to look like.
Barbazon raised his hands, dropping his sword. He did not know he fought a king, "I will not cross swords with you again, my lord."
Henry glared then, clearly annoyed the man did not care to fight him. And then the shaft became too unstable and we all departed.
We did get another tunnel big enough for fighting but by then everyone steered well clear of Henry even though he took Porter's colors, which annoyed him to no end.
Melun fell, and we did the usual with the prisoners. Henry had deals prepared, though he executed the Scottish rebels we found in there, mostly for his own amusement. He was planning to execute the commanders as well, as was our custom as they were traitors. But Barbazon pled the code of chivalry, saying he'd crossed swords with Henry in the mines so it was unjust to kill him. Henry was clearly annoyed, and settled on having Barbazon locked in an iron cage for the rest of his life. They put it in Paris now. I think he's still alive.
"That was a good siege," Henry says, leaning back against the head of the bed.
"It was. We won. We always win," I say, gently.
"Yes, forever," Henry says, eyes glassy with illness.
"Forever," I say, nodding, "We'll be grand. England and France. Because of you."
"I got the last treasure roll," Warwick says, returning.
"Yes, I need to mark it—what can be sold, what my son might want. We'll need to fund his coronation, and he'll need sets of armor, at proper ages as well, things of that kind," Henry says.
"I'll see to it," Warwick nods, steadily.
"I trust you will. I am scheduling, suggesting Kenilworth for the winters it's easier to hold court there. If the boy is ill then take him to the Pleasance, away from prying eyes. Sometimes he may want quiet. There or Berkhampsted is good for hunting as well, when he's young. Eltham is all right perhaps in the summer. But he shouldn't be moved about too much when he's small. Windsor so he can hold parliament, he'll enjoy it," Henry says, taking the roll in his trembling hands.
"We'll do well," Warwick says, but tears are in his eyes.
"He doesn't get to be Prince of Wales or even Prince, John I expect you and our uncles to see to it that he has some amusements, music, the like?" Henry says, "I'm sending my harps home he can learn to play. Warwick will arrange his lessons."
"Yes of course," I say. Also, probably girls too, the boy will be king we should smuggle girls in see if he likes them. It's only fair he doesn't get to sneak out. Our uncle Beaufort will be good at that.
Jack and Humphrey return. Humphrey looks little better, merely slinking to my side. Jack however is leading a big messy dog which plows directly into the bed and tries to crawl up.
"You're a terrible dog," Henry says, as the creature tries to lick his hands.
"It did growl at me," Humphrey says.
"You're a very poor excuse for a dog. Now you shall go back to England, and be a terrible dog for my son," Henry says, petting the dog's ears. It whines and puts is head on the bed. "Let it go Jack, it'll just sleep somewhere it's old."
Jack takes the leash off the dog and it just sits staring at Henry, who ignores it.
"Humphrey this is a list of royal treasures I want to go over with you, a couple of crowns that might be adjusted for my son, and some things we can sell perhaps, and instructions and advice for planning the coronations," Henry coughs a bit, his voice dry and gravelly.
"Yes, we'll go over it," Humphrey says, resignedly.
"Before we get to that. Is there anyone else we need to write to?" I ask. I feel like he should send for Catherine. Just let her come. They've a child together at least speak about that. She's not a day's journey away.
"No, all my pertinent correspondence has gone out you do not need to see to it," Henry says.
I look at Green, his wardrobe keeper. The man shakes his head. So Catherine has not been summoned. I wonder if she even knows?