The Last Princes of Wales (Violent Delights Book 7)

Chapter 7: The siege, March 1408

According to  Henry of Monmouth, Prince of Wales

I want to burn them out.
They taunt me. Six months of siege. It's an insult. I can't even break two castles.
"Because you lack the guns," Richard says, hands on my shoulders, "With guns, we'll break them. All we need is guns."
Guns. Guns. Guns. Guns and ships fill my every waking thought. We're not returning to the siege till I have my guns. I work Richard and the rest of my clerks day and night. We do nothing but finance, find guns, find ships. And still my father resists. He is ailing. And will not see me.
"He won't see me. He won't see anyone," I say, pacing the room. We were at Eltham to plead with him. But he's leaving in the morning. I can't do it. He won't even see me. "Too infirm but to travel by barge. He's a disgrace. He can't even move yet he doesn't permit me—,"
"He won't—see anyone?" Richard asks, looking up from his work.
"No, he's useless he—,"
"So he isn't approving, much of anything, so Arundel probably has the royal seal. Arundal's office which is more accessible than the king's?" Richard asks.
"I wouldn't know it's—you're terrible," I say, looking down at him.
"It's why you have me," he shrugs, "All we need is the seal."
"Arundel would know," I say.
"And accuse us of what? Financing the king's war? Taking cannons for war purposes?" He says.
"You're a vile person."
"I know."
"Let's do it."
"All right he should be at dinner," he says, rising and stretching a little.
"This is the orders for the cannons all it needs is signing," I say, sorting for the proper paper.
"Right as many as we need?"
"Yes, can you get in?" I ask.
He fumbles for a rather complete set of keys.
"Why do you even have that?"
"Do you recall how you left me alone for a few hours last Sunday?"
"Do I recall how I left you at church when I left with a headache?" I can't leave him anywhere.
"Yes, then, come on," he says, sorting for the proper key. I shove the papers into the pocket of his cloak as we exit my chambers. Not truly mine I'm just staying here my step mother invited us as we'd not been down for Christmas because I spent it with Beaufort who is just far more pleasing company, along with the rest of my usual party. Now it's spring, my father is moving for some reason even though Parliament basically told him to live cheaply and keep out of the way.  I haven't seen him in days it's been lovely.
"Arundel shouldn't even have an office here," I mutter, "What does he think he's doing?"
"Latching onto a king for power," Richard says.
I look at him.
"Which is different than you and I, you don't like me or trust me," he reminds me.
"True," I'm glad he thinks that. I'm dangerously close to trusting him, I might even count him as a friend.
Arundel's office is closed up, which is a good sign, and no dogs guard it. This is why I keep dogs.
"When I have children remind me to make sure I've got dogs guarding my office that don't trust the children," I say.
"I'm so disturbed I followed that and knew what it meant," Richard mutters, unlocking the door.
The office is neat if rather set up.
"I'd be disappointed but my father wouldn't be king if he could pick his friends," I say, going to the desk.
"Why do you say that?" Richard asks.
"It was a poor move at the time, all the power, all the responsibility, less of the gain, sitting on the sideline as an advisor or Duke who just rapidly gains control and money, far better," I say, shaking my head.
"Obviously you can do it all."
"Yes, obviously, all right, who do we think can forge his signature better?" I ask, finding the seal.
"Why would you think I can do that?" Richard asks.
"But you can," I say, hand on my hip.
"I'm hurt, and offended."
"Richard."
"Yes, all right but might not be as close as yours," he says, finding an ink pot and quill.
"Fine here's spare paper we'll both try and see whose matches better find one of his recently," I say, fiddling with the paper to find a spare sheet, "There, practice."
He signs quickly, rather like my father's signature. I sign next to it.
"Yours is too neat use your left hand," he advises.
"That makes it slant the wrong way," I say.
"So? His signature looks like nothing I've ever seen I don't even think that's a word let alone his name," he says.
"Please step back, you two."
We both jump and look up. My step mother is standing in the doorway, looking reasonably disappointed in both of us.
"Your Majesty I'm so glad to see you! Archbishop Arundel asked me if I could—," Richard begins.
"Shut up, Richard," she says, coming around the desk and taking the quill out of my hand. She proceeds to sign a much better impersonation of my father's signature, directly next to our attempts. "Better, yes?"
"Yes," Richard says, tightly.
"Yes that is more accurate if you could—?" I gesture to the papers we brought.
"Is this allowing you to take those cannons you've been after since Christmas?" She asks.
"Yes," I say.
Lady Joan looks me directly in the eye, not easy she barely comes up to my chest, and tugs me by the collar of my tunic, "Henry of Monmouth, look into my eyes. If you blow yourself up with those damn things, I will pray to the Virgin Mary to tell your mother that that's exactly what you did, so she can smack your cheek in heaven when you get there. And then when I get there I will smack the other cheek. Is that perfectly clear?"
"Yes," I say, face burning.
She signs the paper, "Master Courtenay I trust Arundel's keys will return to his possessions shortly?"
"Yes, my lady," he says, his face burning too.
She leaves.
He looks at me.
"I've gained her favor," I shrug.
"I see that," he hisses, using the Privy Seal, "Did you know that was going to happen?"
"No, I'd have warned you. Well. No, I might not have. I'd have thought about warning you. Now, come, we have our cannons," I grin. Finally we have our cannons. It's not long now. Soon all of Wales will be reduced to ash.