All the World (Hand in Hand Chronicles)

Chapter 9: " And therefore, sweet friend, take it patiently"

The next week is a haze. I feel like everyone must know my secret the moment they look upon me. And yet I cannot bring myself to care. I'm kissing myself senseless in Edward's arms each night. And I care for little else.
He and I went most places anyway. So now I've drifted oh so naturally to being perpetually by his side. It's gloriously easy, in fact. I take dinner with him. We go riding or hunting together. I'm just one of his retinue now. And what goes on behind closed doors, while I'm sure plenty guess, is no one's business but ours. It's not as though it matters to anyone but us. Oh people still whisper. But they were to begin with. I refuse to let their words sting. I like my life. It's not my problem they don't.
About a week after that awful tournament and that wonderful night, my bruises are finally starting to heal and I'm back to darting about Langley on Edward's errands, or mine. Today I'm on my way to find him, as I was sparring with the other knights and he was likely having luncheon with his sisters, unless of course there was a ditch being dug or something else attractive to an Edward. I'm darting through the halls thus when an arm reaches out and snatches me by the shoulder.
"Feeling better now?" Richmond asks, almost poisonously, nearly holding me off the ground.
"What—?" I frown, genuinely confused, "I'm well—oh my god." I forgot I wrote him that day.
"All good?" He asks, not at all nicely.
"I am so sorry about that I wasn't doing very well—,"
"I gathered that!" He growls, dragging me out of the hall and into a sitting room.
I let him, wheeling around red faced and ready for the coming retort.
"I'm really sorry about that I was having a problem I admit—," I begin.
"Shut up."
"Okay."
"Are you listening to me?" He asks, hand on hip.
I nod.
"The next time you feel like this," he holds up what is clearly my tear stained letter, "You are going to simply send a messenger for me. You do not need to write this down. Because messages get intercepted. You will send a messenger. Then you will conduct yourself to the nearest docks, where you find an appropriate sailor who is willing to fix you until I am able to come and collect you. Got it?"
"Yes, my lord," I say, despite having no idea what he's talking about.
Richmond stares into my dumb eyes, "I take it you're cured?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Do not make me say it out loud in this palace."
"I'm well now," I say, holding up my hands.
"Good," he breaths, "I saw the lists. That get his attention?"
"I don't know what you're—,"
"Don't make me say it," he growls.
"Yes," I nod, wincing, "It's not like that I—,"
"I hope for your sake it's exactly like that now close your mouth I need to think," he sighs, hands to his face.
"I'm sorry—,"
"Shh," he runs his fingers down his face, so tiredly, "Do you have a plan?"
"A what?" I ask.
"Oh sweet Virgin Mary," he sighs, "Look. This is about to sound like a Lancaster or someone disgusting like that but we'll get through it. Right now they think they all know. And it doesn't matter what is or isn't true. Read him bloody poetry every night. Fuck him. Let him fuck you. Pick ticks off his dog. Doesn't matter what you're doing. All that matters what they think. And they're going to decide. Now he's the prince of this bloody country neither of you are getting away from that no matter how you might like to. And neither of you are natural liars. I should know I am one why else do you think I'm still alive?"
"Plenty of men keep men," I say, quietly, "He'll get married."
"Yes, they do, their defining grace is they don't bloody look like it! You go to war, you go on crusade, you kill lots of people, it doesn't matter. Richard the Lionheart was a bloody sodomite did people care? No, because he was at war, being horrible. Edward's not like that. He's not a military leader that's obvious already. He likes for some reason going rowing, and chatting with people. That's lovely, he's a lovely person, it's not going to work," he sighs.
"He might be all right at war—," I begin.
"We tried to get him jousting to give the boy something of a cover. So we tell his father to bring in some knights good at jousting and he falls in love with you. That's how that went," he growls.
"Oh," I wince, that is how that went, "Do you think he loves me?"
"He has since he set eyes on you," he sighs, "Which is beautiful, and may be the death of you both. Now. The idea of this life we lead is that it's long."
"Or that it's the one we want. I'm not going to leave him," I say, folding my arms, "Not so long as he wants me."
"You need a plan. I don't actually care what it is, anything is better than what the two of you are doing," Richmond says, gesturing to me generally.
"We're not doing anything," I say.
"I know! That's the problem. Look. I'd say the world doesn't accept men like you, but it doesn't accept anyone. It loves destroying men like you though. You're just stubborn enough to make it fun for them. Maybe if you were fair spoken or cunning they'd let you slide by but you're neither, bless you. So you need a plan," he says, "What is your excuse for why you were looking for him just now?"
"Ah—," I wince, "I was going to talk to him it's nobody's business?"
"Bad," he snaps his glove as he takes it off, "You need a reason to be finding him. At all times. I don't care if it's good or not. But let's start slow. Try again. Do you have a good reason that you can speak to, why you're constantly by his side?"
"It shouldn't matter—,"
"It does matter! No, you're right it shouldn't there shouldn't be wars we should control the holy land there's plenty of shoulds. It does matter. Make your life easier," he says, "We're starting with a good and logical reason why you're perpetually by his side. It doesn't have to be that logical. And yes people will still talk. But at least you've got something to say that doesn't completely betray the truth. This is for people like mothers. And priests. And the bloody king of england."
"I'm teaching him jousting—or just the art of war. I'm not—horrible at warfare," I offer, shrugging.
"All right," he nods, agreeably, "Good enough I suppose. In time, perhaps a year or so. For god's sake get him to actually go jousting with you or something, hopefully we all go to war—convince him to swear you as his blood brother. Claim you saved his life from a runaway horse nobody would believe that all animals immediately love him, saved him from drowning. Something think of it. Have him call you brother in correspondence. Call you his sworn brother in arms. Things of that nature. It doesn't help but it softens things a bit people can't argue with that all men have companions and the prince lacks brothers his own age."
"All right," I nod, my stomach sinking. He's right. I know he's right. And I do admit I am probably out of my depth.
"Eventually he may give you a house or something, take it. Jewels are better if he gives you them keep them close. If he dies, if he falls ill, if he simply decides he's found someone better you are finished. Court whores have better chance of alternate employment than you. If you're lucky you can get back to Gascony but in a couple of years they won't want you either. You'll need enough money to disappear. I'm your friend but my own neck isn't going to save yours, if something were to happen you can't expect to even get word to me in time. Right now one person in England cares what happens to you. And pretty soon the rest of England is going to want you dead for sport," he says.
"Why though? What's it to them you said yourself all men, all royals—have their vices," I sigh, flushing in embarrassment.
"Nothing, dear boy. It's nothing to them. But you're something to abuse. You're just there. The world loves being cruel. And with you they now have an excuse," he says, gently.
I nod, and say, a bit curtly, "You give Edward this chat?"
"God no. Edward can't be taught. That boy has been prince, crown prince, since before he could walk. The world's been handed to him, why would he imagine that would stop? You're his favorite toy and he's always gotten any toy he likes. It's going to take a very cruel lesson to convince him that that's not true. And he learns everything the hard way it's his nature. Let it be your nature to survive," he says, finally his tone approaching kindness.
"We can be subtle," I say.
"Oh, can you?" He asks.
As if to prove me wrong the door opens and Edward strolls in. He tosses his arms about my shoulders happily, and leans his head against mine, "Why are you haunting us, Richmond? I didn't know you were at Langley!"
"You were saying, Piers?" Richmon asks, ignoring Edward.
"Nothing, I was saying nothing," I sigh, patting Edward's arm.
"I can hug you were I like, the whole morning's been dull. I've been bored," Edward says, "I want to go swimming, let's go swimming this whole afternoon."
"Sure," I say.
"It's nearly winter who raised you? That's a no, Lord Edward, you're not swimming, I've brought you a new dog because I thought you'd be miserable and I'd be cheering you up. Also brought a new minstrel but now I need him more than you do," Richmond says.
"Why'd you think I'd be miserable? Are you experiencing omens now?" Edward laughs.
"No, just pathetic letters," Richmond says, tiredly.
"Wait—oh right sorry," I say.
"You did say I can have the dog though? Where is it? I like dogs," Edward says happily.
"I suppose as I don't actually want it. And I know you like dogs," Richmond says, "That's why I brought it. I also brought the minstrel but as I said now he's for me."
"You're miserable then, have you been bothering my Gaveston?" Edward asks, still mauling me in his arms.
"Please tell me this is special for me?" Richmond gestures to us disdainfully.
"Oh no," I say, "This happens."
"What? A cuddle? Yes," Edward says, "Where's the dog?"
"Gabriel's fucking wings," Richmond just leaves.
Despite Richmond's lack of faith we actually do rather well keeping the affair a secret. We're young enough for few to care. Edward usually has a solid entourage, I'm just a part of it now. And my role at court has become ethereal at best.
I'm only a knight. Not even I've not been knighted.
Yet I drift in and among the princes' company. We go riding. We go rowing for whatever reason. We buy fish in town, I don't know why he likes doing that but he does. And then I'll slip off to his room. We'll kiss the night away tangled in his fine silk sheets. When dawn comes I'll slip away, messy and sweaty from sex, down to the river where I'll wash clean in time to appear again, drifting through the halls of Langley, as if preparing to be a ghost.
I learn little of court, and few people's names. Most everyone uses something other than their actual name, but then out of their company they'll use titles. I also make few friends. A couple of the knights are polite enough to spar with me. That's about all.
Sexual or not, Edward's preference for me buys me few friends. I care very little about that. I had few friends to begin with it's him I care for. This somehow strengthens him.
I knew Edward was careless. And relatively self-absorbed being a prince.
Yet at the end of the day it surprises me how much it means to him that I'm still standing there. I had counted Richmond's words as likely true. This may be my whole life, but it's only a part of his. He can forever get pretty boys to follow him about it doesn't touch him.
I, however, will be utterly ruined by this. I'm not about to reflect on the stupidity of it. That this one single affair will define my life. But I know it's true it shall. I'm not completely naive.
However, despite Richmond's prediction that I'm the current pretty toy, Edward grows more and more reliant on me there to lean on. Not always physically though sometimes. It makes him happy that I wait for him after dinner. That I dislike anyone he does with no cause. If he hates them I'll help him mock them to cheer him up. That despite it all I'm gladly staying. I don't know how much good I do. But I'm here. I love him and that's what counts.
How can I not love him? He's sunshine. He smiles for anyone. He'll kneel to play with his nieces. He'll carry a limping dog home miles after a hunt. He likes going swimming and walking in the rain. He'll do anything for anyone. If any of his people ask him something he'll grant it or do his best to fix it. He pays his servants well, knowing their names, and their spouses names. Some husbands and wives work for him, and he'll pay them the same equally. If any of his staff is ill, he'll pay them even if they must go home, and usually he'll send a doctor. He's simply lovely, a kind heart and a warm spirit. How could I leave him when I see what a beautiful person he is?
The answer is I don't. Never, but we'll get to that in due time.
For now.
It's New Year, and it's the century so it's a proper party. I was informed it was the century later. I didn't know that. I don't know why was expected to know that.
"You don't know what year it's becoming?" Richmond, already drunk, and crying.
"No? Why would I?" I ask.
"It's 1299 you know that!"
"Why would I know that though? Realistically?" I ask.
"How old do you think you are?" He breaths.
"Seventeen?"
"What year were you born?"
"Same as him?" I offer, pointing at Edward, "I think? It ended in a 3. I know that."
"1283," he breaths, "You're sixteen. He's fifteen."
"Oh," I nod, "What? So what year are we turning to?"
"1300 you should know that," he cries.
"Why though? Does it matter day to day?" I ask.
"Is this an act?" He asks, sobering a little.
"What?" I ask.
"EDWARD don't let this one get hit on the head again he's done, that's—enough," Richmond says, patting my head.
"He's good at not falling off his horse when he tries," Edward says, gripping my arm.
"I really thought I was seventeen all year—AIMEE, what year was I born?" I ask.
"Who is this random child?" Richmond asks, "No, don't say it. I don't want to know. I don't want to know I'm happier not knowing—,"
"My little sister," I say, holding her shoulders. We smile and cock our heads at the same time.
"Another one. That's fine," Richmond finishes his wine.
"You were born in 83, we're five years apart," Aimee says.
"So I'm seventeen, I've thought I was seventeen for a while," I say, "See?"
"You're sixteen. You shall be seventeen this coming year," he breaths.
"July 18," I reply.
"July you're sixteen and a half, Christ in heaven, I need more wine."
I laugh, hugging Aimee. She's invited to these things now. Edward allows it. He invites nearly everyone he can manage. He'll have Christmas with his servants as well and have them bring their families, for a feast, and he'll give them all money for the holiday.
"I love you," Edward whispers in my ear, drunk.
I'm drunk as well. The heavy wine goes to my head. And the lights spin around me. The candles flicker. Everyone is draped in beautiful fine fabrics. Including me. I am finally no longer feeling out place dressed in fine clothes. I like fine clothes. I like looking like this. I like feeling like this.
"You look, beautiful," Edward says, spinning me around in front of a mirror. He has one in his dressing room. It's long, and gilded at the edges. And I look at myself.
"You looked beautiful tonight," he says, hands on my shoulders.
I'm wearing a dark green tunic and white stockings. There's jewels as buttons on the tunic and it's fur lined, white soft fur. I'm nearly as tall as Edward, though not quite he can still lean over me. And I'm struck by how little alike we look. He's everything bright and kind, soft blue eyes, and thick fine curls. He's finally starting to get a beard. 
I haven't looked at myself or noticed how I look. But Richmond said I'll be seventeen next summer? I don't look like a man. My hair is a deep brown, mostly straight and swept back from my face. But my jaw is getting rounded and strong. Thick high cheekbones. And big eyes a softer, lighter color than my hair, yes they do seem a milky green beneath the streaks of brown. Smooth lines are under my eyes, and a straight, soft nose. Thick eyebrows, and pale lips, a long mouth that's nearly downturned. I'm still narrow chested and my shoulders don't look thick as they should be with all the jousting.
But he's right the tunic does make my eyes look greener. And the clothes don't hang off of me as poorly as I feel. I don't know if I look like I belong in them.
"Look at you. You're so beautiful," Edward says, kissing my cheek. I turn my head to kiss his lips, putting a hand through those soft curls.
"So long as you think so," I mumble. It's the only opinion I care for.
The feast days are a haze of drunken parties, that turn into drunken nights. I'm there everyday, Edward simply brings me along. Miraculously, no one questions it. The king is here he says nothing. I'm one of many knights invited. If someone notes my clothes are finer they say nothing. Richmond is there usually as drunk as we are. Edward's sisters are around as well. He doesn't bother to introduce me to his family. It's like he expects me to know them. Of course I do not.
He has a plethora of sisters, nieces, and cousins. They all show up in turn. I have perfected the art of hanging back and smiling politely, a courtier. Nothing more. Edward will reach for me and I'll move forward, but that's all. Otherwise I've gotten good at being quiet.
Edward's little nieces and girl cousins are charming, bouncy, giggling things. A couple are near Aimee's age and at his urging they disappear to whisper with her. The littler ones bop around our feet in bright dresses like so many fairies, begging to be danced with. Being a big strong knight, I usually oblige. One or two tug me off to dance with them, little hands curled on mine.
If I lose Edward, I find him more often than not playing dice or cards with his sisters and a couple of other I suppose relatives. He's not good at dice or cards and that doesn't stop him. Often he'll have a niece on each knee, letting them play with him, conspiratorially whispering to them before making a bet. The girls love this naturally. My main amusement is that his sisters are also not very good at dice so they all lose to each other terribly.
I keep to myself, playing with the kids, or chatting to Richmond if he feels like checking up on me. I decide while drunk that I don't mind that. I've grown even more alone than I was here. And now I'm fully terrified of rumors of my state reaching my father. Richmond's not old enough to be my father but I'll take his affection.
Despenser is there for at least part of it. He has children as well, primarily monsters who are rounded up and caught at a couple of intervals. Despenser is charming enough. He helps me avoid Lancaster whose main occupation is lurking it would seem.
"Like a plague that man," Despenser laughs, tugging me away bodily before Lancaster can speak to me.
"Yes thank you," I say, gripping his arm.
"Return the favor if you see a small boy who clearly has no sense please catch it before it gets near someone with royal blood?" He asks.
"I will—? Can I ask why?" I ask.
"I'm attempting to convince the world, but mostly aristocracy, that my eldest child is a normal person. You'll understand if you have children," he says, patting my shoulder idly.
"I will, I mean I'll look, what does the child look like?" I ask.
"A blur of chaotic motion," he says.
I later see Edward holding an angry child off the ground as said child argues with three girls. He appears to be saving the child from the girls. I don't know if the incidents are connected but I feel like they might be.
And every night I spend in Edward's arms. My room isn't forgotten, but it's severely neglected. I'm happy in lost hours locked in his embrace. I now know the smell of his sweat, the way he smiles as he makes love to me. I memorize it. Like I know already that I'll lose this innocence somehow. And that this sheer happiness will eventually be tarnished.
But that matters little now. I'm too full of youth, and to giddy with my first love to wonder when the cracks will begin to show.