Feast of Fools (Violent Delights Book 15)

Part 2: December 20, 1445 (evening)

According to Margret, Queen of England

I think it's rather unfair that I'm in love with my husband. I was intended to get through this passively. I didn't want to hate him, no. And I fancied I might like him. But loving him is rather exhausting. I don't know how to cope.
I went to afternoon mass. Because that's a thing we have I don't know if it's English or if we just skipped it growing up or if it's a Henry Thing. But either way we have it. And it's the only time I see him. No one else is here, strengthening my suspicion this is a special service and not something everyone else does.
He's dressed in a red and black velvet tunic, simple, with his gold hair slicked back. Lovely neck lined muscle as he bends his head in fervent prayer, candle light through shadows on his high cheekbones. He has so far greeted every dog, and every chaplain, and every servant, by name and asked after them tenderly, a warm smile on his face. He's a ray of sunshine, just simply radiating kindness with that soft smile and his husky voice never above a whisper.
I loiter, waiting to speak with him as we leave. He smiles gently when he sees me approach, hands folded a bit.
"My lady," he dips his head, voice still not above a whisper.
"How have you been?" I ask, also whispering a bit we don't have to but it feels odd to speak loudly when he's not.
"Well I'm quite busy—I did send my brother and cousin to call on you and ensure you had everything you need? They're quite young and enjoy the occupation," he says.
"Yes, they did, I'm well, thank you ah—," this would be easier to get out if he didn't have such a soft earnest smile while he listens attentively. Do I want to kiss him? I want to kiss him. That's an upsetting emotion. "Would you like to come hunting with me tomorrow or the next day? I thought we might go hawking, with your brothers of course."
"I don't know—I suppose I've not looked at my schedule. I mean, yes, if it would please you," he corrects quickly.
"It might be good for all of us. You work so hard," I say, quickly.
"Yes. Yes I do enjoy it it is my duty in life—yes I'll come. Send someone to tell me when," he says, quietly, frowning a little, "Do—never mind."
"What?" I frown.
"Nothing. Nothing. I'll look forward to it," he smiles a little.
"Right then, good. Well I'll let you know—will you join us for supper?" I ask.
"No, I'm fasting today, I'll be working," he says, backing away a little.
"All right, I'll look forward to it as well," I say.
"Good," he smiles his soft shy smile.
"Good," I say. That went well. I suppose. I mean he agreed to come. Why are all of our conversations so awkward though? Perhaps this holiday will do us good. I'm just going to ask his brothers if he's ever raised his voice above a whisper I've been not asking but I'm just going to ask them. It feels insensitive but I've also never heard him raise his voice above a whisper so it's getting valid.
"Marie, please ask the Earl of Warwick to come and see me later when he has a chance," I say, to one of my attendants. I need to speak with him as well, privately. And I'm sure the king's brothers will turn up eventually.

According to Jasper Tudor

Minding my own business, walking near where I may hear things acting like a page, is not spying. Spying is something my brother the king is against. And this isn't it. So we're grand.
"Well? Are you going to ask him?" Richard Neville, he's brother in law to the Earl of Warwick as they're married to one another's sisters which is about as weird as it sounds. That reminds me to swear my brother the king never to marry me to anybody. I already told him I'd sooner not but I need to bring it up again.
"It's not that simple. I can't hear half of what he's said then I've—agreed not to be cross with him before I know it. It's honestly complicated," Richard of York. He's a bit younger than Somerset and not necessarily clever. He's usually at war in France he's good at that I suppose but then we don't have France. My father doesn't like him he has a reason and it's actually a good one.
"Tell him to reinstate you as Marshall of France it's your post! He can't just take that away after abandoning you," Neville reasons. He's a few years my senior just seventeen or so I do not know why he's in charge. I mean, he is cleverer than Richard of York but then so's everyone.
"I am going to! But if I do that I'll leave with—something else. Speaking to the king is confusing."
"Which is why he should give you more authority, you're his most senior cousin," Neville says.
"I know."
He's not. He's technically not. If we're counting only male line illegitimate or no, Somerset and Cardinal Beaufort are more senior, male cousins. If we're counting female line as well, the very claim that lets them claim France, then my Harry and his dad are most senior. So no, not really at all. Since my mother was the eldest princess of France and we're currently one country, France and England, then I'm a closer relative to the King than York. It's confusing, I spent about an hour understanding it from Somerset. I've also spent an entire afternoon trying to understand what drives Neville and it turns out it's basic desire to cause problems anywhere he goes. Because none of that is true. And I may be biased but the king is my brother he can appoint who he likes to command France. That's usually based off of who most recently asked him to do it, so I am not sure why York is that cross. Oh yes, he's been talking to Neville.
"I'm going to talk to him. I just need to pick the proper moment," York says.
I pick up a tray of wine and walk out of the room. I'm dressed as ever like a servant so they don't recognize me. They have both met me multiple times. I might as well enjoy being forgettable.
I put down the tray of wine as soon as I leave the room and break into a run, I left my Harry with his father but he always gets lost at Eltham. Admittedly the court halls do get sort of circular, the royal apartments aren't bad it's not the most confusing palace. I've been living in my brother's household for years and I'm still not fully used to the idea that I've had the run of various castles.
Out by the stables Harry is still with his father, looking at one of their horses which went lame. I'm an all right rider but Harry loves the horses, all of them, he names them whether or not they've already got names. I prepare to loiter, but I catch sight of my brother.
Edmund is changed from travel, leaning on the stone wall of the yard and staring off at the trees. I know he's been ill lately but he was eager to come.
"Hello, you doing anything tonight?" I ask, crawling up next to him. He jumps.
"Don't do that!"
"What? Walk up and say 'hello'?" I ask.
"Yes you weren't there a minute ago," he pushes my shoulder, and then switches to French. I addressed him Welsh, "And I asked you to use French. I do have friends."
"Sorry," I use Welsh automatically with him and my father. He did tell me that though, I feel bad, "Are you doing anything tonight? Only Harry and I are having a bit of fun you can join."
"Is a bit of fun some sack you idiots got a hold of to drink on the roof while Harry babbles incoherently and you stand there with a single thought bouncing around in your head?" Edmund very accurately sums up most of my and Harry's better evenings. He says it rather disdainfully, but that is a great way to spend the evening.
"No. Not tonight. I'm doing a project for Cardinal Beaufort actually it's a bit of fun," I say, "Also I don't think our brother's even allowed sack on the premises."
"What? That's ridiculous. Good job I brought some—,"
"Can I—?"
"No."
"Even if—?"
"No."
"Right then. You busy tonight or what?" I ask.
"Hopefully, later," he scoffs, "In which case I don't want you hanging about. In fact it would be helpful if you didn't even come back to your room I might need it your room here is closer to the girls quarters—why is our brother doing that you think?"
"Not for any of the reasons you thought of," I say, dryly, "In fact I don't think your convenience went into the decision at all."
"You giving me your room then?"
"Yeah all right, I'll stay with Harry," I say. If it's too rainy or something to stand on the roof we can play cards in his room.
"You're all right," he pushes my shoulder, "What is it we're doing for Cardinal Beaufort?"
"Oh, you're standing at the end of the hall of the royal apartments around midnight," I say.
"What that's it?"
I nod.
"Jas, what are you up to?"
"Nothing," I say, completely innocently, "I just may need you to help carry something is all."
"Oh, right," believing me for some reason not to do with who I choose to be, "Yeah I will then. Have you seen father?"
"He's coming up behind us," I say, not moving.
"Ugh Jas don't manifest it like that."
"It's literally true I saw—,"
"All right time to go, they don't have food here," our father says, in Welsh, hand on either of our shoulders.
"He's pretending he's not related to us," I say, in French.
"Yes, which the two of you are not helping with why are you leaning on me like a large dog—?" Edmund asks, I was leaning on him. I hadn't noticed. I move away.
"That's great you can do that someplace else. Again they do not have food here we're going to go," our father says, shaking our shoulders.
"It's a fast day, that's all, if you go to the kitchen they give you food for free," I say, tipping my head back to look at him. He doesn't really look at me.
"That's good so you've already eaten good come on we're going to leave," he says, calmly.
"You do this every year! All my friends are here I have plans," Edmund sighs.
"Shame, come on, it's feast week we're not spending it here," our father says.
"You can go, I'm staying here," Edmund says.
"Jasper?" Our father looks at me.
"The King asked me to stay," I say, quietly, "He's our family too. And he was pleased we were all here— he asked about you."
"Send word something came up," our father says, "All three of us are going to someplace else for the feast weeks we're not being involved here."
"You seriously think if there's greater than three dukes in a given castle they're going to try to murder each other?" I ask. That's what he thinks he's said it out loud.
"You know that's what I think I've said it out loud and I'm likely right. York is here. The late king had his father killed you have no idea the bloodshed I've seen neither one of you," our father growls, "All right? Now go get your horses."
"No. That's stupid," Edmund says, he looks at me.
I sigh. I don't want to argue with him. I always talk back I know it I was supposed to pray to not do that so much and I didn't get around to it but I do want to stop.
"Seriously?" Edmund pushes my arm.
"Father—," I begin.
"No, I'm not hearing it Jas, go get your horse."
"You didn't care about the holidays, or us being murdered, when we were in that bloody abby. He cried every single feast day and asked me when you were going to come and I had to tell him you didn't care about us anymore and hug him so you don't get to tell him what to do anymore," Edmund says, stepping between us. We're having this argument fairly loudly in Welsh.
"I was in prison, Edmund you know that," our father sighs, "Because of these exact people—they arrested me!"
"You weren't in prison when you left us. Or when he'd cry himself to sleep and I had to hug him and tell him it was all right. I was supposed to be a child too! Not his mum and dad," Edmund cries, "So I'm not dealing with this I have a life now, you don't get to spoil it by dragging us away or upsetting him."
"I'm fine," I say, anger bubbling in my voice, now I'm angry with both of them, "You can both stop worrying about bloody taking care of me I don't need it anymore it's too late. And if I'm going to get kidnapped or executed or poisoned or whatever it is you think is going to happen then I guess that's what bloody happens I don't care."
"I care, I'm your fucking father, Jesus, why do you have to be like this—,"
"Don't know, guess I'll ask him when I get killed," I say, and then I walk turn and walk away.
"That's your fault not mine," Edmund points after me.
"Jasper, don't you walk away from me goddamn it," my father sighs, but he doesn't follow me.
I head back into Eltham, ignoring the sounds of their continued argument. My words were true, even if in anger. I don't really care if this is how I get murdered. My brother the king is my only family member who actually wants me about so I'll stay for him. That's the end of it. Angry tears burn on my cheeks, and I wipe them away. Wonderful bloody holiday this is.