All the World (Hand in Hand Chronicles)

Chapter 10: "The time is little that thou hast to stay"

We go to war when I'm finally turning seventeen. My youth feels an age. Yet I've been here at Langley perhaps a year and I'm an entirely new man. I'm now accustomed to my life, and more than that to my relationship with Edward. I know how we pass our days, and what pleases him, and what does not. I'm content in my life.
And that's when war with Scotland comes.
I've been to war in Scotland and am enthused naturally.
"We could be knighted, we should be knighted," I point out.
"I suppose," Edward goes quiet. Which means he's not fond of something. And he's forever spoilt and clearly would prefer not to have to do it at all, if it's something that doesn't truly please him. And war doesn't. He has no taste for it like other men. I suppose that's to his credit.
Richmond is at least as cheerful as I am. I'm pleased he's also going.
"I was there with you before," he reminds me, "I've nothing against war in Scotland, damned good fun."
"Oh right, I didn't know anyone's names then," I say.
"You don't know anyone's names now," he rolls his eyes.
Aimee is concerned for me. I don't really know why and tell her so.
"My day to day life is equally dangerous I'm fucking the prince," I say.
"Yes, but you have no sense of self preservation," she says.
"Yeah, we covered that with what I'm doing with the prince," I say, "This is honestly safer. And a better way I'll die if you think about it deeply which I have."
"Don't talk of dying!" Aimee groans.
I talk of it but I don't think of it. By now I feel invincible. And while my mortality is ever present, I refuse to let it haunt me. In the end, I have the crown on my side. The actual prince of bloody england wants me about that's a damn sight better than I ever was.
Readying to go to Scotland takes what feels like an age. The preparations for war are entirely complex, and lacking much else to do I try to do my best to study it. After all it could make me useful to Edward. I can be his top general that's how things are done or so I'm told by Richmond who thinks he knows things.
Now dressed in fine clothes I can easily slip into meetings about this unnoticed. I don't ask questions and I listen attentively. Men. Battle plans. Siege machines. All excruciating details everything must be worked out. I enjoy the complexities of it.
"It'll be ridiculous," Edward predicts.
"You're only saying that because it's not fun for you," I say, as we lie in bed one night.
"Well. Yes," he shrugs, "I got you a present. Do you want to see it?"
"Don't give me presents! I don't need presents I'm your poor squire or something," I say, kissing his shoulder.
"Oh shut up, here," he sorts for something he had hidden under the mattress.
I'm surprised when he hands me a dagger, in a fine leather sheath.
"Don't stab anyone. Or yourself," he kisses my temple, "I've seen your stuff, Richmond said it's terrible. He also said get you something to defend yourself with."
"At what point did Richmond get us in loco parentis?" I ask.
"I don't know but it's awful," he says, "Do you like it?"
"I love it, nearly as much as I love you," I say, kissing his lips.
It is a fine weapon, with a good weight to it. I take to wearing it on my girdle. It's clearly good but I decide it's nothing telling. It's from Edward yes but a weapon is good enough payment to a loyal knight. Loyal to his bed is what I am.
When he finds out I've not been going to confession he drags me, physically, throwing me over his shoulder and hauling me to the chapel where his confessor waits.
"Oh so this is awkward," I say.
The confessor glares at me.
"Yeah, I remember what I said about Lucifer, well not directly, yes let's chat," I sigh.
I confess all, in varying degrees of embarrassment. It's not that I'm a stranger to confession but I am a stranger to things of this nature much less admitting to it.  Apparently Edward's been confessing, so I think shouldn't have to.
"I mean I'm not doing a lot he's told you everything really—,"
"You still must confess," the confessor sounds pained, "You're going to war. Please wash your soul clean."
"Oh, that might take a while."
That comment isn't funny to him. It is to me so that's all right one out of two people in that booth isn't bad.
We depart for war when summer comes. Edward is quiet about it, his father is of course leading the expedition so Edward is to be with him. I'm among his chosen retinue of knights.
The preparations are glorious. Two siege engines. Thousands of troops. And an actual scribe to record what happened, in poem. I tell him to leave my name out and he tells me he doesn't know who I am so that's great.  I'm not properly a knight, even, so I mostly manage to go unnoticed.
I'm no longer in fine clothes of court, and back in my tunics from last summer I find I've grown. I'm not just taller I'm also eating better and jousting less. My muscles are rubbery with fat, and my sword belt is tight on my waist. I find I don't like it whatsoever.
That's cured on the march to Scotland. I sweat out whatever weight I gained over the winter, and my mare goes lame halfway there so I start simply walking. On rations as well as on the march we all get lean quickly. Edward included. That's disappointing the next time he crushes me in a hug and he's wiry with muscle and not soft and comfortable to sink into. Naturally he's not held me in weeks nor kissed me, he finds the excuse for the hug for no reason at all when I'm just standing close to him.
Tragically, my mare collapses before we've even reached Scotland. She was a young horse, and healthy, or should have been. She limps for days then simply collapes in the road.
"You have to get up, shh," I say, cradling her head, tears soft in my eyes.
The mare nickers gently, pushing her face against mine one last time.
I weep, the horse's head in my lap. Not only was she my loyal mount, but also the first horse that had ever been properly mine. I'd bought her with my own winnings from tournaments. I picked her from a stable, in Gascony. The first time I saw her she was being skittish, wouldn't come to the man so he could show me. I held out my hand and she stepped up to sniff it so delicately. I said right then and there she was my horse. She came to England with me no one would believe she'd load on the boat properly but she did. Lovely smooth gate, and she'd always stop when I fell.
I fall behind the rest, holding her head as she dies. Then. I simply must get up and walk away from her body by the side of the road. I weep bitterly, entirely alone as I must run to catch up with the rest of army.
I finally overtake them after dark. If anyone knew why I had fallen behind they say nothing. And by now I've cried all my tears out.
I don't want to see or talk to anyone. I'm not hungry. I accept ale and slink off into the dark to be miserable. On one hand I don't want it to mean as much as it does. On the other, I want it to mean something. This horse that I loved, she must mean something. I realize I'll have other mounts. But it still matters, to her I was her everything. I feel like that should matter in the world, and deserves to be remembered. And I hate this feeling of time slipping away, and my life changing. And I like my life and I'm afraid I won't get the feelings again. I won't ever be there, fourteen and fresh at my first jousts, buy my own horse again, riding her home myself.
Edward finds me of course, and wraps me in a fierce hug, his frame now wiry and thin from travel. He smells of sweat and horse too. And I'd know his arms anywhere. Even in the dark like this. And I wonder if when we're old and withered from time I'll get to feel his arms around me and remember this night he found me just out in the dark, and comforted me without knowing why I was weeping.
"She couldn't get back up. I don't know what happened and it feels like my fault—," I sob, into his arms.
"Shh, shh, you'll meet her again in heaven," he says.
"Animals don't go to heaven," but likely nor am I. Not if I keep loving him like this.
"Yes, they do I decided it. Shh, I know how you loved her. We'll get you a new horse," he says, gently stroking my tears away.
"I don't want a new horse," I say, even though I know practically I do need one.
"I'm so sorry," Edward says, combing a hand through my hair, "Tell me about her?"
"I chose her myself, she was more all black then and—I'd never owned anything of my own before," I say, realizing I won't again. None of this is mine. Not the clothes. Nothing. He gives me fine things. But they're not mine. I'm becoming drastically less real. And I know it.
Edward holds me and I lean against him. Like he's all that's keeping me down to earth. Space is wide above us, a million stars glistening overhead. And I nestle into his arms in my grief, not caring for what tomorrow may bring. Something else so precious and so easily lost.
Come dawn we wake, and Edward guides me back to camp. I'm well aware my eyes are bruised from crying and I probably look as horrible as I feel.
"We'll find you another mount," Edward says.
"Where?" I ask.
I realize I said before that we all look awful and sweaty and a few stones lighter from walking and sweating all this way. That does not apply Richmond. He looks as stunning as ever. His hair is clean he just looks entirely fine as if he were standing in the middle of court.
"Why do you have extra horses?" I ask.
"Because I'm not poor," he says, checking for dirt beneath his fingernails, "Go get on the bay charger it's sensitive. Like an Edward. You'll be fine."
"You're hilarious cousin," Edward says, rolling his eyes. He gives my neck one more squeeze.
"Thank you, Earl Richmond," I say.
He waves a hand dismissively so I take that to mean he's not sick of me yet.
The bay charger is sensitive and likes a light hand, he was keenly accurate in pointing it out for me, we get along well. The horse is steady if handled properly and I'm good with shy ones.
I realize I haven't brought it up till now but Edward brought his lion with us. His lion did not need to come. His lion came anyway. In its own cart. With its own keeper. And a new collar for the occasion. Anyway apparently the lion likes me.
"He was worried about you," Edward says, while his pet eats my head.
"Edward, your pet is eating my head," I breath, as the lion licks my head to see what I taste like.
"He loves you!"
"No! I feel that he doesn't!"
The lion lays down on top of me. My face is scratched from the licking so I think I'm going to die of poison. I voice this.
"Isn't it poisonous?" I point at the lion on top of me.
"No," Edward says.
"Do we know that though?" I ask.
"Yes, yes I think we know that," Richmond says.
"Oh really? Has it bitten someone and that person lived?" I ask.
"No, he doesn't bite, he's a pet," Edward says, like I'm the one who's stupid.
"I feel like there's a flaw in that reasoning. It sounds right. But there's a gap," Richmond muses.
It takes what feels like an age to reach Scotland. But finally the air is clearer, and cooler. And the clouds lower, heavier.
Caerlaverock castle.
We prepare to siege it with vigor. The siege machines are to be set up. The camp must be set up and prepared for weeks if not months of siege. We have a lion with us. And a poet. It's prepared to be epic.
We break the castle in two days.
Two days.
Turns out, siege machines knock down the walls of castles very well. And there were only forty odd angry Scotsmen inside.
Ha. Two days. We spent longer getting here. Unless we helped put the siege machines together to the disappointment of our lover who usually likes manual labor but I'm not supposed to talk about that. Anyway, unless we helped put the things together, most of us didn't even do anything. We just stood around. It's not even fun. Our horse didn't have to die. We didn't do anything.
Two days.
It's embarrassing for everyone. And very disappointing. Two days.
"If you don't stop saying 'two days' in that tone of voice and generally sounding like my father, I'm never kissing you again," Edward generally threatens, mid rant.
We return home mostly in triumph. The siege was a success. If a brief one. Home is Langley, as ever. I'm compensated for the loss of my horse, as is proper. I put off going to purchase a steed for a while. Edward volunteers to come with me. I'm surprised he wants to go, till I remember that Edward absolutely loves chatting with random people, for hours, about things that don't normally interest him.
I'm just going to a fellow nearby who sells decent horses that know how to joust. I visit the few horses he has for sale, eventually befriending a small chestnut horse with a white mane and tale. It's another mare, and small enough to be quick, and gentle enough that it'll bond to me. I wait and let it come to me. It does, putting his big head against my chest. It's got no star, and no white hooves. The horse lets me pet it gently, then I ask to ride it. It proves sound, I'm well with the gate and the horse responds quickly enough to be decent for jousting.
While I'm selecting the horse, Edward makes eight new friends, gets food and ale, inexplicably buys fish, and I'm fairly sure is now involved in someone's wedding.
I don't know the name of the man I buy the horse from. But I think Edward is now the godfather of his child.
And life becomes my new normal. I now answer letters from my family in brief. I'm in the king's service. I work for Lord Edward. Things which are something like the truth, but also not really. I suppose they've gathered something. I no longer speak of coming home again.
Because now I've inadvertently referred to Langley as my home. It's not just Langley though. It's wherever Edward is.
Life continues to change for us. In all sorts of ways.
Edward's father has remarried. His step mother, barely older than us to be of note, falls pregnant. By the next year Edward has a little brother.
"Probably be a better son than me," he says.
We're on campaign in Scotland again, with varying levels of success. Edward holds his own and is a capable, if lack luster general. I think the other's see it. It's not in his blood to war. While I myself am well with war, it's not a fault in him. I think his father thinks it is.