The Last Princes of Wales (Violent Delights Book 7)

Chapter 8: The siege, Setember 1408

According to Owain ap Gryffud, Prince of Wales

Spring came, and summer followed far too swiftly, and now it fades to fall again. Over half the populace of the castle, starved this winter. And fall comes and with it meager hope. We can grow some food, and the birds that fly overhead are no match for the speed of our bowmen. We aren't free, and we're still damn hungry. But the conditions are better. We've buried our dead. And we still stand defiantly upon the ramparts, singing our old songs, showing them we are not beaten. Me most of all. That english boy must know I still live.
"I want you to know, father, that if you die, I'm going to prop your body up here for as long as possible, to convince the english pricks you still live. Because it vexes them," Ieuan says.
"I'd help him do that, aye," Rhys says.
"I was just assuming you'd do that," I say, cracking a smile. Our humor is entirely gallows of late, but lose it and we'll lose our minds.
"Good, because we will, won't we use grandad's corpse as a tool in warfare?" Ieuan asks his boys, Blont and Owain trail closely to him these days. They miss their brother. We all do.  The boys nod at their father, actually smiling for once. It's a warm day. The english are on the move though, that's partly why we're up here.
"What—in god's name," Rhys is looking through a spyglass at the ocean.
"What? More men on ships?" I ask. It is summer, a time for war. I'm expecting a peace treaty offer to be honest.  "Is Harry himself here?"
Rhys shoves the looking glass to Ieuan.
"Jesus and Fucking Mary and Joseph," Ieuan says, handing me the spyglass, "What even is it?"
"What?" I ask, taking it and focusing on the ocean, "He's bringing cannons?!"

According Richard Courtenay

"I want you to know I am, so, so sorry about this. It is my fault. But I promise. I had no idea he was going to directly involve us. I thought he was going to let us be somewhere else while he had his fun. And I think it's obvious I can't say no to him. So. I'm terribly sorry, but we're going to get through this together. I have read the Odyessy, I know what to do here," I say, holding up clumps of warm wax. About fifteen sad mastiffs are sitting in front of me, looking confusing and hoping for a snack. I usually have food.
"Is this really going to work?" Edward of York asks.
"I gave that man, over 1,000 pounds of gunpowder. I think we need to try," I say, holding up the wax.
"Oh hell," he says, taking some, "Just— what put it in their ears?"
As if on cue, I hear the first bang of one of the smaller guns. We jump, so do the dogs, who look around anxiously. It's quickly followed by several more cracks of weaponry in the distance.
"Do not doubt the power of classic literature!" I shout over the noise, handing Edward the wax, "Put it in the dog's ears, if they shake it out they do but at least they won't all be deaf!"
"One of them is deaf already!"
"Yeah I left that one with the prince!" I shout, covering my ears, and putting wax in the ears of the black pup. It's no longer a puppy, quite tall now and all legs. It sticks close to us and Edward, rarely venturing off, and it gets tired easily, but otherwise has had no ill affects from the poisoning, or our attempts at a cure.
"How in god's name did he get the little guns up so quickly?" Edward asks, hands over his ears.
"The Henry effect," I mutter, finishing with the dog and about to make wax balls for my own ears.
"Master Courtenay, the Prince of Wales requests your presence," Green says, ducking in.
"That's wax for your ears, don't say I never did anything for you," I say.
"I thought there was only enough for the gunners?" He says.
"Again, don't say I never did anything for you," I say, hurrying out.
Henry is predictably at the line of cannons. They're still setting the bigger ones up, those probably won't start going until tomorrow.
For now, this is more than enough. The cannons are booming at regular, perfectly timed intervals. Henry is happier than I've ever seen him, staring at the explosions and the smoke, as the balls ricochet off the castle walls. They're making a dent, just.
"Your Highness?" I say, bowing because we're in public, and coming to his side.
"Ah, yes, Richard," he nods, then goes back to look at the cannons. The booms come rapidly, not one out of line, and the sound is deafening.
I put my hands over my ears. I can't take it. I had things to do in my tent not the least of which was help Edward with the dogs so Edward will protect me from Scrope who hates me more than usual. And I brought paperwork.
"Why—did—you—need—-me—for—this?" I shout, each word between cannon explosions.
Henry, smiling, completely unaware of the tone in which I'm saying it, "I —wanted—-you—to—see—the—cannons!" Absolutely pleased, like he's showing me something nice to look at like the year's tax statements or a new book.
"That's nice!" I shout, "Are you—-I —brought—paperwork—-I'll do—-that—-all right?"
"You —-can—-relax and—-see—the—cannons!" He says, arm around my shoulders as I cringe and cover my ears.  The noise is not affecting him. Well we did know he was born for war.