All the World (Hand in Hand Chronicles)

Chapter 6: " This isle shall fleet upon the ocean"

"Last night I found out there's a tournament in the next town or wherever I don't know where anything is in this island, and I'm going it'll be two days so I'll be back, two days," I say, standing in Edward's room one fine fall morning. Summer's coming to a close. At this point it's a matter of form for me to be up here, my schedule is Edward's now. And his schedule sometimes has no purpose or meaning.
"What? Why are you dressed," Edward asks, rolling over in bed, sleepily. His hair messy from sleep and his eyes are still mostly closed. He clutches a pillow to his chest.
"Because it's past noon," I say, nicely, "I'm leaving I've found out about a tournament, and I'm going because I have no sense of self control. So I'll be back in a couple of days your schedule for the next couple of days had no meaning anyway."
"What? Why? No, that's dangerous," he says, sitting up, a little more awake.
"It's for fun, I've not been jousting in ages, and I'm not a prisoner here I can go to a tournament," I sigh, hands on hips, "I just found out so I'm riding over it's nothing I just felt like I should tell you."
"Who let you in here?" He asks, gazing around.
"Big Rob. Little Wille. Hick. Everyone. Like everyone, anyone I asked just pointed me right up," I say.
"Hm, good. So— wait— you're leaving?" He asks.
"Yes, just for the tournament I'll be right back," I say.
"Can I come?" He asks.
"Of course you can you're the bloody prince you can do what you like but it's not your thing is it?" I ask.
"Not to participate! But you're in it," he says.
"I mean yeah if you want but it's going to be boring as you're not into it," I say.
"You watched the roof thatching with me."
"I whined about that though, like a lot," I say.
"You even helped with me."
"I whined about that as well I've still got blisters, don't feel like you have to," I say.
"No I'm coming! I mean, they can't know it's me but I'm coming," he says, sitting up a bit more. There's about five greyhounds in his bed. He starts petting them in turn. "I want to watch what if you were hurt?"
"You couldn't do any good from up in the stands—?" I say.
"Oh god don't be logical at this time of the morning."
"Again, it is past noon."
"Or accurate! Now I'm going to need you to leave so that I can actually get up and get dressed but don't take this wrong definitely wake me up again also I'm coming don't leave—,"
"All right, it's up to you—,"
"Yes yes it is, goodbye Piers," He groans, flopping back down in anguish at having to wake up or something.
I leave to go get ready myself. My things are packed, and Jean is waiting on my mare. We were going to ride double. Now that Edward's coming with some of his people the little boy can probably switch off a bit? I'd assume? That feels logical at least.
Of course Edward arrives with no less than ten people, a pony for Jean, and another horse for me. They're all dressed in going out clothes, dark cloaks, and they're in proper disguise as common men. Edward even has grease through his normally fluffy hair, and he hasn't bothered to shave his so far unimpressive stubble.
"What did you expect?" Edward laughs at my expression.
"I don't know actually," I admit.
We ride to the tournament. I have Jean lead my mare, and I ride a small charger alongside Edward. In the time since he's gotten up he's fully formulated a plan, including staying at a local tavern.
"I love staying at taverns! We'll say I'm an ill count from Europe or something and you're my brother," Edward says, cheerfully.
"Why not say who you are and you don't want the attention?" I ask. Admittedly Edward often likes to walk among his people, and enjoy more common pursuits. See the ditch incident.
"Well no. And I don't want to be caught," Edward reasons.
"Caught?"
"I'm not meant to be doing this—?" He frowns.
"You're prince you do as you like," I say, "You do anything you want."
"Yes and my father's king, Piers! I didn't ask his permission to come," Edward says, "I just left. He'll be furious he'll think I boated down the river, again."
"Again?"
"It was a week. It was fun we just sailed down the Thames it was nice," he nods, "I didn't think he'd be back. He was."
"I didn't mean to get you in trouble!" I sigh.
"It was my idea to come, it's fine it's only a couple of days. They'll never know I was gone."
Admittedly, it's entirely possible to assume that Edward's down with the dogs or walking the grounds, for days on end. I push away my concerns. We're only jousting.
When we arrive the tournament grounds are already crowded. I'm in a good mood. I've not been jousting in ages.
"Do be careful," Edward says, gripping my arm quickly, before we part.
I laugh, "I won't get hurt."
"That wasn't the same thing—?" He realizes after I'm already shifting away into the crowd.
But I'm in a good mood. I'm finally jousting again. My head's been all funny lately. I know some of the knights here. I've been too much in court. This is actually my crowd.
And before I stepped into the stables, I had no idea 'favorite' was a foul word.
"Too busy being the prince's favorite to be out jousting?"
"Tell me is your skin bruising from all the wool?"
"Aye he's used to silk now."
"Did he give you a cushion for your saddle?"
I make a rude gesture and keep walking, mostly because Jean tugs me along by the girdle.
"They're jealous," Jean hisses.
"They're bullies," I mutter. My face is burning. I want to do nothing but answer their words with my fists. All the words are jumbled up in my head. I didn't ask to be the prince's friend. I'm just his friend I'm not a favorite. Yes I wear fine clothes now, what of it? I didn't ask for that I didn't even ask to go to Langley.
But the devil of it is, now I would ask.
I do like being in Edward's service.
I'm even starting to like the stupid clothes he picks out for me.
And I'm not going to be ashamed of it. He's a really nice person. He's really great. And I like spending time with him. And I like him and that's not wrong. They all get to have their enjoyments. This is just where I've found myself. And I won't apologize for it.
"Ignore them," Jean says.
"I'm not going to ignore them. They don't get to treat people this way," I say, as we together get my mare ready and in the proper saddle.
"Don't," he sighs.
"I'll wait till the tilt," I say, smiling sweetly at them as they jeer at me for not answering.
"He said not to get hurt," Jean winces.
"Oh, I'm not going to be the one who's hurt."
Jousting armor comes in just a few pieces. Helmet, gauntlet for the hand the holds the lance. And a mail shirt. The mail shirt can stop shards of lance from skewering you properly. There's also a shield, which is the ideal target of the lance.
But if you know just how to break your lance on the shield, so the shards fly into the opponents leg. Or if you have enough strength in your arm to dehorse your opponent.
Well then that's going to hurt, isn't it?
I channel my anger into focus. Most people have the most strength in the upper part of the shield. The lower, which is in a point, is harder to hit, but that directly protects the groin, meaning striking it causes the rider to immediately be thrown of balance.
I break ten lances in the first hour. They put me to the side and I and Jean go and steal more lances. Over half my opponents have been struck to the ground. The rest are picking shards of lance out of their thighs. Some are rich enough to have mail skirts or leg guards. I'm not. But I don't need it.
I'm not de-horsed once. And by the time the afternoon is over, my head is full of nothing but the sound of my lance cracking, and another body striking the earth. I had no idea how much I needed that. There's a certain peace for me, when there's nothing in the world to worry about except my horse beneath me, the lance in my hand, and my opponent barreling down the tilt towards me. Just a few addictive moments of calculation. Then the crowd goes wild.
I'm quite drunk on it by the end. Blessedly, Edward and his company come and find us in the stables.
"I got it," Jean nods, as he wipes down my mare.
That's good, because Edward takes me by the shoulders, nearly throttling me but not daring to, "Don't ever fall. Promise me you won't fall like that. You could be killed."
"It's not that dangerous," I laugh.
"One of the men you dehorsed broke his neck!" Edward cries, upset.
"Oh. Well it's not usually that dangerous. My neck is fine," I say.
He hugs me swiftly, and it grounds me from my previous euphoria, once again I find myself leaning into it.
"I'm fine," I say, smiling gently now.
Edward smiles, putting a hand through my sweaty hair, "Let's go eat, eh?"
We make our way into the village. Edward has already identified a tavern, and made friends with about ten people there. For little reason known to anyone but Edward, we stop and buy some fish along the river, and then proceed on into the tavern where Edward gives away the fish we just bought to the cook, then pays for our meals anyway. He doesn't identify himself, but if all the knights knew who I am, then I'm guessing everyone knows who he is.
Ale for all of his men is order, and for us. I'm surprisingly relieved to have more normal fare, and Edward seems to feel the same despite having been born to luxury.
"Do they ever knock you off your horse?" Edward asks.
"Not if I can manage, I'm sure they will tomorrow, they'll be cross," I say, as the bring us steaming plates of fresh cooked fish, eel, and vegetables. I find I'm starving.
"Why? You won fairly," Edward says.
"They're not going to care," I say, suddenly not wanting to admit the real quarrel was because of him, "You've heard my mouth, I'm not popular."
"Even so it's a fair sport. I don't like it though," Edward says, pushing his food about and not really eating it.
"Are you going to make me stop?" I ask.
"No, no," he reaches out and puts a hand through my hair, gently, "You look a mess. You need a bath."
"I'm sure there's a river you can push me," I grin.
We both eat and drink our ale, not really wanting the evening to come to an end, but we've eaten our fill. Despite bringing half his household, Edward is content only to speak to me, quizzing me on the joust primarily but tired as I am he still gets a laugh out of me as he describes their experiences in the stands. Apparently it was quite crowded and everyone was amused at this oddly committed cheering section for a boy from Gascony.
"Did you hear us?" He asks.
"No, I never hear anything while I'm out there. It's all calm," I say.
"How can something so violent be calm?" He asks.
"I don't know. It doesn't really make sense. It just is. Nothing else to worry about but the other man's shield, and your stick. Simple," I shrug.
"Do you want to get out of here?" Edward asks, "Go for a walk?"
"Yeah, all right," I say, looking around, some of his men are still eating.
"We'll be back in a bit," Edward says, to the one I remember as Big Rob. Big Rob nods an affirmative, with little care for our departure.
We duck out of the noisy tavern and into the mostly quiet street.
"Stars are nice," Edward says, looking up, as we walk along the row of shops. Many are closed up now, but there's another tavern up the road.
"Yeah," I say, looking up. Why did you come? Why do you want me I'm not interesting? I don't say any of it.
"You're bleeding," he says, reaching out to check my cheek, "You swore you weren't!?"
"I'll keep," I say, checking a cut, "Just a splinter, got me there. I'm grand."
"Why don't you get on with them? The other knights?" He asks, "Earlier you said it was how you are but you've got lots of friends at Langley already."
"No I don't," I laugh, "I've my little sister, and Jean, who are required, and then I've got you. Nobody else fancies me. It's fine I don't like them either."
"Then why are you staying?" He frowns, "You could ask me to let you leave you know I'd say yes."
"You're enough to stay for," I say, looking away from him, "I suppose."
"Oh," he says quietly.
"Would you really let me go?" I ask.
"I don't know," I can feel his eyes on me, "I'd—I wouldn't want you to go. I suppose I'd try to persuade you otherwise."
"And if I insisted on leaving?" I ask.
"I don't know. I'm not a very nice person when I'm cross. I can stay angry forever that's why I don't like it. I don't like feeling like that," he says, "But it doesn't matter. Because you're not leaving."
"No. I'm not," I say, "I've got an all right life at Langley I've got no reason to go."
"An all right life, like better rooms and clothes, and food," he says.
"No, I don't much care about all that," I say, looking over at him. He's washed in moonlight, hair still greasy from his disguise. He's got his head tipped back looking at the stars.
"What do you see?" He asks, looking up.
"I sometimes can see those constellations they talk about also not really, I was never any good at picking them out," I say.
"It's a beautiful tapestry, and it changes every season. I like to think heaven's past the stars. So when we die it's just—boom, immediate start dust," he says, waving a hand to illustrate, "And we're somewhere beautiful looking down at everyone through the stars. My mother, I suppose you know she died."
"No, I'm sorry," I say, nicely.
He looks over at me, "You—didn't know my mother was dead?"
"No?" I say, weakly.
"She was queen of England! It's significant!"
"I don't follow these things! And I'm not English."
He stares at me.
"And I'm dumb."
"She died when I was a baby. Not long after I was born, I suppose. I don't remember her. My father does. She was perfect," he says, "He loved her like she was the one who hung the stars to begin with. And it's my fault she's dead."
"It's not your fault," I shake my head.
"That's why I have to be the perfect king. Because she died to give me life so it's—that's it I have to. I have to make her dying count. Do you know how awful that is, Piers? It's like all of heaven and earth resting on me," he says.
"I can't imagine how that feels. But —it isn't your fault," I say, "She'd like you. I'm sure of it."
"But I never get to ask her," he says quietly, "It's a terrible thing to hold onto, all the words you'll never get to say to someone."
I nod, there are tears in his eyes. I don't know what to say.
"All the sadness turns to poison after a time. So I just take what I want, I give up. And then I feel worse but—I'm not going to stop feeling how I do," he says, rubbing his face, "What I'm saying is I don't usually let anything in too close because it'll turn bad. And make me worse. And I don't like that. I hate that. But. You're really worth the risk."
"What risk?" I ask.
"I don't know yet. I'm just saying, telling you, that I don't like that version of me either. That hates the world so badly when everything for me has gone wrong," he says.
"I do," I say.
"What?"he frowns.
"I do, I like every version of you, it doesn't matter. You can be as vindictive, or cross, or petty, or lazy, or miserable as you want. You don't have to be lonely. I like you, no matter what," I say.
"Why?" He asks, slowly.
"I don't know. I can't help it I suppose," I smile, "What I'm saying is I'm glad you came. I wouldn't want to be standing here with anyone else tonight."
"Nor would I," he smiles finally, "Did you drop from heaven, Piers?"
"Hardly," I laugh.
He steps closer, reach out a hand to rub blood from my cheek, "Why didn't I insist you see a doctor about this?"
"Because I'm obstinate," I say, smiling now.
"HEY! GAVESTON!"
"Shit shit—run this way," I just bolt in the opposite direction of the voices.
"Well do we know that was negative?" Edward asks, following me obediently anyway.
"Yes, Edward! We know that somebody shouting 'hey Gaveston' wrathfully in the middle of the night, is not positive. Also I'm with the only person who would shout my name positively," I growl, as we bolt down an an alley.
"Well, why are people chasing you?" Edward asks, not even panting, as we round a corner...and run directly into four men.
"Where's your prince to save you now?" One laughs.
"That was so generic, it wasn't even a good threat, I'm embarrassed for you," I say, before punching him in the face.
Edward is just standing there being confused, because of course he's right here. They naturally don't recognize him.
The first one and I grapple and another grabs me around the waist. I turn around and an elbow takes out his eye. I hear him howling in pain as I'm bathed in his hot blood. The other two converge. Edward drags one off ineffectively and I dispatch the other with a kick to the groin.
"Come on, come on," I take Edward's hand and keep running, "There's at least twenty more it's everyone from the tournament."
"Why is everyone at the tournament wanting to kill you? Because they lost?" Edward asks.
"Yes, because they lost and I am prettier than them, here hold this," I find a sizable piece of scrap wood and hand it to him immediately before we run into half a dozen more of them.
"All right, who's first?" I ask holding up my hands.
"We could talk to them but all right," Edward mutters.
I dive into the fray. One punches me. I catch his fist, twisting till I hear bones snap. Another seals his arms around my neck but Edward takes him out with a blow to his head.
I fall into battle with a third, who nearly trips me with a leg hooked around mine. I throw a quick blow to his throat which takes him down in time for another to start throttling me.
Edward has taken out the sixth, so I and the fifth are still at it. I finally end him with a well timed blow to his gut, my knee slamming up into his lungs and knocking the wind out of him.
"Let's go, let's go," I say, snatching Edward's hand in mine. Together we take off running back the way we came.
"Not that way," Edward wheels me around right before we run into another group of the thugs, "This way, are you hurt?"
"I'm completely fine," I spit out blood.
Together we bolt up the high street, and double down another alley only to have our escape be cut off by yet another group of disgruntled knights. We turn around and run back the way we came. There's shouting from behind us, the tell tale sound of our victims pulling themselves back together for another round.
"Run, run," Edward says, unnecessarily, pushing me in front of him as we bolt down another alley. This time we're able to double behind some shops, before we run directly into—
—Royal guards?"
"Lord Edward."
"William," Edward nods.
"Oh Christ," I groan. This isn't going to be good.