The Fiddler (Hand in Hand Chronicles)

Chapter 3 - "in sequent toil all forwards do contend"

I stay alive. Everything is exactly as it always was. And I feel nothing at all except the odd tinge of sadness. I find moderate escapes. Still I have my usual chess games with myself. Our little brother John is a bit older now. Our parents are very protective of him, but now and then I will visit him. Not too much, only if Thomas is away. He can't ever know. He can't get in his head to turn on our brother. Our mother is busy, helping our older sister in France, that sort of thing. She and our father go.
It's like struggling not to drown when I've no idea how to swim. But I might be learning. I play my fiddle when no one can hear me. I play chess silently for hours, in rooms that are meant to be locked up. Sometimes we go to visit our cousin Edward at Langley. Usually we both go. But Thomas is seventeen now. Old enough to go with our father on business to learn how to be an Earl. So this time I've gotten to go alone. A rare bit of solace I have every intention of savoring.
Langley is busy, which is straining, with Thomas gone I'd sooner be home but our cousin begged I come as he adores company and I don't dare refuse him. We're both meant to be learning to be knights now. I'm good enough at it. Not too good at anything. I wouldn't want anyone to pay attention to me. Not when every small kindness poisons me for days after, with fear that it was false or repercussion, or perhaps worse it was meant and I can't enjoy it for it'll soon be gone.
But I go, with the intent of going to Edward's lessons. Our other cousin is down as well, Richmond, well he's a John we all call him Richmond. He's Thomas' age or thereabouts but he spends more time with Edward and I. I like him, as he's false enough to be mistrusted and therefore relaxing to me.
"I think I should watch both of you joust," Edward says. He hates jousting.
"Get it over with, we won't even dehorse you," Richmond sighs.
Edward bites his lip and looks pathetic.
"Don't give me that," Richmond pokes his cheeks, making him laugh, "Come on, guess it's me and you Harry." He always calls me Harry.
"Right," I say, picking up my things. I really don't properly care either way I've been composing a song for the past twenty minutes and I was just hoping they'd argue long enough for me to finish it.
"Excellent. I will learn from watching that will count as my lesson!" Edward says.
"I highly doubt it but I don't truly care," Richmond mutters. I don't know if he makes these sarcastic comments to me or to amuse himself.
The first time down the tilt I get a blow on him. He laughs in annoyance and I quickly plan to let him strike me next time. I don't want him angry with me.
The next time he charges and probably would have struck me anyway, but since I'm prepared not to resist he fully dehorses me. That's honestly all the better, but I roll to the ground painfully striking my shoulder. I cry out, biting my lip to stop the noise. Never let them see you cry.
"You all right old man?" Richmond asks, and I hear him come over. Edward beat me to his side.
"See?! This is why I don't like jousting!" Edward says.
"I'm well, I'm well," I say, sitting up, rubbing my neck as pain shoots down my back. I'm just grateful it's only them they won't notice how much pain I'm in.
"You look in pain," or Richmond will.
"Air knocked out of me. It was a good hit, cousin," I say, climbing to my feet, tears leak from my eyes in pain.
"Henry you said your neck didn't pain you," Edward says.
"He has Wryneck—that's not a slur, Edward, don't look at me like that, it's twisted neck it's bound to hurt especially when he falls from a horse," Richmond says.
"Well he said it didn't! I'd never have let him joust otherwise," Edward says.
"I'm fine," I say.
"Shut up a minute Harry, we know you think that—of course that hurts him. He lies. Also if he wants to joust who are we to stop him?" Richmond shrugs.
"You should have told me it hurts. I'll have my surgeon come tonight, and have a poultice sent up," Edward says, reasonably.
"Don't trouble yourself I'm quite well," I say.
"Have you ever been to Bath for that? Do you a world of good after a tournament," Richmond says.
"What's that?" I ask, frowning.
"Bath? It's healing waters," Edward answers.
"You've really never been? You live here," Richmond says. He lives in Brittany usually his father is Duke of there or something.
"I don't—go places very much," I say, brokenly.
"You don't leave your room very much," Richmond laughs, "Seriously do you good."
I'm still in splitting pain, "I appreciate the suggestion yes I may sometime."
"You will not cheeky liar," Richmond says.
"We'll all go! It'll be fun!" Edward says, "We'll take you."
"We are supposed to be doing lessons—look let's joust again I'll be grand," I say, wincing in pain, "And Richmond's eldest."
"Richmond is easily distracted," Richmond says, "It's more diverting than what we are doing."
"We're not allowed," I say, panicking. When my parents find out? What if they care? Thomas didn't even like me going here alone he was against it.
"He's the bloody prince and I'm the bloody decision maker because I'm eldest," Richmond says, "I forget what we're intended to be doing but I don't want to do it."
"It's not far at all! I've been three times you'll enjoy it!" Edward says.
It's over a hundred miles but I'm not about to bring it up. I think Richmond knew that. But he is admittedly easily distracted. And with neither my father nor the king about the only people to monitor what the prince is doing is his very easily bought help, and Richmond. Since he professes he'll visit the abby while we're there it falls under his father's list of acceptable activities. I'm a nervous wreck because I think this is the grey area of what we're meant to do and I'm usually where I say I'll be, not halfway across England. I think I'm doing a good job of acting calm.
"When questioned I'll say I kidnapped you now relax," Richmond says, arm around my shoulders.
So I'm not doing that good of a job of acting normal.
Edward is enthused with the trip. And I try to calm myself. Fine. It's the princes' idea. I'll go to this healing water thing. It's probably a well? That we pray next to? That will be fine I'll do that if it pleases them I can't argue anymore than I already did.
Bath is a relatively established city, with a fine church. I'm fond of churches other people mostly can't talk to me in them if I sit far enough away and I can think about music or a chess game for hours. Sometimes I'll go to two or three masses in the morning just to think in relative quiet.
"So where's this well?" I ask, looking around.
"It's not a well," Richmond says, concerned.
"It's a spring," Edward says, helpfully.
I wasn't to know that. "Right, well if you both want to skip it—,"
"Oh my god we're taking you," Richmond groans.
Edward thoroughly enjoys walking through a new city with new people to immediately befriend. He visits merchants and talks amiably to them, sometimes buying things, sometimes just giving them money I don't know why he's loose. The river Avon runs through the city and Richmond has to catch him by the balled up back of his tunic in order to stop him from just going and climbing in.
"I love swimming!"
"We know," Richmond says, just steering him on, "Roman baths, that way. Reason for trip. Stay on track and maybe I'll help you find a new dog."
"Really?!"
"I said maybe."
I trail behind them, until I realize we are going to an ancient, stone manor, big enough nearly to be called a castle. Steam is rising from within.
"Come on," Richmond pauses.
"It's—a pool?" I ask, slowly, fear rising in my chest.
"Yes! You float it in it's warm, it's really warm because it's a spring," Edward says.
"No—I," I can't breath. I can't do it. They are usually kind to me. Please. Please. "I can't—I can't swim."
"And you're friends with him?" Richmond laughs, mauling Edward a bit, "He's part fish this one how has he not pushed you in a river yet?"
"I—I can't I'm sorry I can't," please.
"Look you don't actually swim I think you can stand in most of it, or lie on the steps," Richmond reasons.
I shake my head, feeling sweat run down my face. I can't say anymore.
"Okay, I've got an idea—wait here," Edward says, tugging Richmond up the steps.
I sink down on the side of the street, head in my hands, struggling to breath. All I can feel is water filling up my lungs. And I'm back in that river, being pushed helplessly under.
A hand slaps my shoulder.
"We're going to come back later when there's less people, and you can wade in however little you want eh?" Richmond says, he's the one who slapped my shoulder. I must have jumped. "You all right, Harry?"
"I'm fine," I say.
"I don't know why I bother," Richmond shakes his head. I don't know what that means.
"Come on, we're coming back tonight we'll go find supper," Edward tells our entourage of his rather enabling staff, who are apparently paid to follow the prince not actually guide him.
I follow them stiffly. We go to a tavern where Edward makes fifteen new friends, chatting merrily with anyone. He's always hungry and people are always happy to feed their prince. I'm in a state of near panic. I know logically they won't try to drown me. But I can't stop my hands from shaking. I try to eat or drink and all I taste is that chamber pot. I am personally proud I make it through without vomiting.
It grows dark. And we return again to the great Roman Baths.
"These are old, older even than England because the springs are healing," Edward explains.
"It looks like they're not letting people in," I say.
"Welcome to life with Lord Edward," Richmond says, he's walking behind me like to stop me from bolting.
"Thank you very much!" Edward chirps, to a few attendants who let us in, passing Richmond the keys.
And we step into a grand room, lined with columns. It's two and three stories high, with walkways all around. The center of the room is simply a pit, of dark, hot water, steam rising from the surface.
"It's murky but there's steps in, it's just warm in here from the steam, so even if you don't go all the way in it feels good," Edward says, stripping his clothes as he stands on the walk.
I numbly begin to do the same, I can feel my hands shaking.
Richmond strips quickest, wading in, pale skin going red and blotchy from the heat, "See? It's barely past my belly your head doesn't have to go under—kind of should for your neck—but it's honestly not deep."
"I can't swim," I say, staring at the water lapping at my feet.
"I swim great, and I'm going to be right here. You trust me, don't you?" Edward asks, smiling kindly.
I look at his sweet face. All kindness. He's not once had a harsh word for me.
"I do trust you," I say, softly, nodding. I don't know if it's true.
"Okay, we're not going to let you drown," Richmond says, standing in the middle.
I step onto the pebbled steps. The water is hot as it laps against my skin. And there's overall a deep, mineral smell rising from it. All dark. And quiet it's hardly lapping.
I step deeper, up to my ankles.
"You're fine," Edward smiles, encouragingly, taking a step back unthreateningly.
I step forward, the water is warm, like I bath. I hate bathing. But the smell is rich like the earth. And I'm not drowning. I'm not drowning here with them. My neck aches and my stomach is in knots. But I'm not drowning. They would not push me under.
I step forward again, now it's past my waist and I can see the dark water lapping against my belly. I breath out, slowly, then back in again. Breath.
It's safe here.
I kneel down onto the slippery stones, so that I can float, leaning back, the water around me but it's not rushing over my face. I'm safe here. I'm not drowning.
I jerk up as the water meets my face, coughing even though none ran in my mouth.
Richmond is at my back and I jerk away.
"Scared me there," he holds up his hands, frowning as he realizes how clearly terrified I am. He takes a step back.
"I'm fine," I say, keeping out of arms reach. But they moved to save me. They are the people who were going to save me.
"Have you ever actually been fine? I'm going to charge you for saying that," Richmond quips.
"No, no I've never been fine," I say, staring at the dark water. Then I drop beneath the surface, folding my legs so they don't touch the ground, and I'm under the dark dark water. And I'm not drowning. I'm right here. I'm not drowning.
I push myself to the surface, nothing stops me. I'm shaking water from my face. Because I can breath. And I'm not drowning.
I inhale, deeply, like my mother told me. And I breath out. I am not drowning.
"Brilliant," Edward says, so encouragingly.
"Did you drown once? Almost?" Richmond asks.
"I think I drown," I say, staring at the warm water as I run my hands through it. Not drowning. Not anymore. "I don't want to be afraid anymore." I want it to feel like this. I want it to stay like this. Feeling this safe or close to safe. I realize I'm weeping.  "I'm fine," I say again, even though tears are running down my cheeks. Because in this quiet, safe place, I can learn how to weep. Someone can see me cry.
"You need to start meaning that you know," Richmond says, idly.
"Yeah, yeah I think I do," I nearly laugh, but tears are still running down my face.
I'm not fine, I know I'm not fine.
But I'm on my way.
I'm learning how to swim. Because I'm not drowning. Ever.  Not anymore.
I can't have anyone else know. I don't trust that much yet. But I start sneaking down to the river, when no one is watching. And I wade in fully clothed and make myself swim back to shore. If I can swim he can't drown me. And if I am stronger then him then he can't trap me. And if I'm smarter than him, then he can't torture me. No one can.
I refuse to let myself be drowned.
I exercise with the other knights. In a crowd Thomas can't single me out as well anyway. I spar every morning, and run pretending nothing is chasing me, and at night if Thomas is nowhere in a ten mile vicinity I teach myself to swim.
I don't enjoy it. The only things I enjoy are my music and chess. But that doesn't matter. It feels good not to fear things. I don't want to be afraid anymore. I can keep building my defenses. A good castle has a moat, as well as walls, as well as archers, it must have at least all three. I need my mind, no fear of water, and strength in my limbs. Then I might survive.
Because he'll come again. Disappointed with life and cross because our father praised me at supper, Thomas slips into my room again. I wait, pretending to be asleep as I always do. Then his knee is in my belly, hand trapping my wrist. I know just where his head will be.
And I bring up my other fist into his temple.
Thomas cries out like a wounded cat and we are off. I've tussled with him in sport but never showed half this strength. He's surprised. But not about to back down from a fight.
He draws a dagger and dives it at my neck. I only just dodge in time, driving my shoulder into his chest. We hit the wall with a slam and I feel blood run down my back. I bite his arm. His knee is in my groin and his teeth on my ear. I feel blood pour down my face. I head-butt him and his nose snaps.
"THAT IS ENOUGH BOTH OF YOU," I don't know who screams it.
We are mid tussle. This is for everything in my life he's ever done I will not stop now. I want him to die. I hope we both die.
It takes five men to drag us apart, we're both covered in blood, half naked, and frothing with anger. And that is how we are presented to our father.
"You—were trying to kill each other? At god knows what past midnight?" Our father was woken for this. He's about as angry as we are. "I hope you both have a good explanation for this."
"I didn't know who he was. He startled me," I say.
"YOU KNEW WHO YOUR BROTHER WAS WHEN YOU STARTED CHEWING ON HIS FACE, HENRY."
I don't wither any more at my father's wrath. None of it at all matters.
"He was trying to murder me," Thomas says.
"Yes that's how I stage all my murders, Tommy, in my own fucking bedroom," I say.
"Watch that mouth. Christ. The pair of you. Have you taken leave of your senses?" Our father asks.
"He is insane," Thomas points at me like there would be other people he might be referring to.
"He was just in my room for no reason past midnight we're really not going to talk about that?" I ask.
"Shut up Henry, just shut up—,"
"He is mad I have said it for a while—,"
"You as well! You also knew it was your brother why, Thomas may I ask, did you continue trying to murder your brother instead of simply calling for help? Why was the most logical course of action stabbing him with a naked blade?" Our father asks.
"He attacked me, I was defending myself," Thomas says.
"We're just—going right over what he was doing in my room in the first place," I say.
"Fine. Why were you anywhere near your bloody brother?" Our father asks.
"He lured me there," Thomas says immediately.
"How did I do that? Just—for my information because that is a weird time to agree to go someplace with a madman and you're armed, I'm not," I say.
"I came armed because you're insane—,"
"So why go places with me?" I ask.
"ENOUGH, both of you. That is enough. I will tell your mother of this, once I decide what in god's name it is. For now. You will make amends with one another. And swear never to do something like this again."
"Father," we both say, very obsequiously. We've had this entire very formal argument coated in blood and mostly naked. The staff look nearly entertained. A bit disappointed we're both still alive but entertained none the less.
We turn and face each other. I smile. Thomas smiles too.
"Brother."
"Brother."
We embrace.
"Checkmate," I whisper.
His fingers dig into my arms enough to draw blood, "You know you'll pay for this."
"Without a doubt," I say, smiling. Because I can be mad too. Two can play at this game he created. And now he knows it shan't be so easy for him. He'll always be the master. But I can fight back. I will still go down, but I'll go down punching.
He wouldn't kill me, and put me out of my pain like that. That would be too kind.
Our father does tell our mother we were rowing. She doesn't care. I fear Thomas will go after John to get back at me, so I make a point of making him cry the next day, just teasing him that his neck will grow crooked like mine. He weeps. A lot. It's almost insulting.
"I don't want my neck to be crooked," John weeps, face in his hands.
"Will you quit crying? A little? All I said was 'if you don't do your lessons your neck will look like mine' why would that even be how that worked?" I ask.
John looks at me, blubbering.
"Look I was born like this, it didn't even happen. You're completely safe," I sigh.
"I'm telling mother."
"Good for you?" I shrug.
That's on me, our mother is upset.
"Why would you tell your brother that?" Our mother is very upset, "That his neck would go bent?"
I shrug, "I told him I was joking." I was protecting him.
She sighs.
"I told him it was a joke and I was born this way," I say, sighing, "And anyway is it that terrible?" Thomas did worse to me. He never got spoken to.
"You weren't born that way. You were born normal. The surgeon's said the nurses held you wrong. Or dropped you. No one would confess so we sacked them," my mother says.
"You said I was born like this," I say, touching the tense lines of my neck, head perpetually tilted to one side.
"You say it doesn't hurt you," my mother says.
It hurts everyday. "I know. It's my neck. Why did you tell me I was born like this?"
"It was easier."
"Does my father know?" I ask.
"No. You were a few days old," she says, "He wasn't here when you were born you know that."
I say nothing, going back to the music playing in my head. It's much less complicated.
"Don't be cruel to your brother," she says.
"I won't," I was being kind.
"You were though. You know you scared him."
"Is it that terrible?" I repeat, touching my neck.
"Yes."
"Then why tell me now?" Why tell me I could have been normal? Why let me know that I was broken that early on?
"I wasn't going to. But as it came up, your father's been talking of finding you a wife. And I wouldn't want some poor girl to think her children were going to all be born like that. And I might be in France then so this way you can tell her," my mother says.
"Ah. Yes," this is the first time I've heard of marriage as well.
"Go on then. And don't talk to your brother if you're going to be cruel to him."
"Yes," I go.
I leave, pushing all my thoughts and feelings aside. If I don't think about things then I won't really care. It'll all be fine so long as I don't feel anything. I play chess by myself for hours. I stare at the walls and imagine music. And the inside of my head is peace.
I know Thomas' revenge is coming. He will ruin me somehow. And everything will become just a bit worse.  I don't know when. But it'll be something good. I honestly am gambling on him telling our parents something or just taking it out on John. My fiddle's strings are cut one day so I know he's definitely trying to distract me from something so much worse he's planning. I run through my mind what he could do, trying to play down my anxiety and pretend that my neck isn't getting stiffer by the day. I can barely sleep for the pain. I know he's creative.
I didn't know he was this creative.
I go to meet him and our father at Langley. Where I am met with the unpleasant and immediate surprise that the entire court has heard whispers I'm a sodomite. So that is very interesting. I must be getting wiser. My first thought is 'oh that was creative' and then I quit thinking so that's divine. I'm not invited to spar. I'm not invited to play with the minstrels. Even the house knights who used to at least chat with me pointedly avoid me. Well played, Thomas. Well played. I'm better off alone anyway. I'm used to my own head. This is just one more reason never to speak to anyone.
I was used to them all gossiping about my neck. They all call me Wryneck now, nobody even hardly knows my name.
"Harry!"
Almost nobody.
"There you are. Heard you got here a few days ago where've you been hiding?" Richmond asks, slinging an arm around my neck.
"I'm around," he has spies everywhere there's no way he doesn't know this man knows everything, case in point, "Do you know how this happened to my neck?"
"Injury probably early childhood, likely infancy, held wrong or something of that kind, why?"
Point made, he definitely knows the rumors that Thomas is the author of.
"No reason, I should let you go, you likely don't need to walk with me?" I ask.
"I quite intentionally crossed the yard? You know Edward's looking for you," he says, idly, "The king's on a new campaign to make the little lad like manly pursuits we're going to watch a blacksmith today I'm here to invite you."
"Look Richmond I appreciate your being coy but I'd sooner just go on my way? You hardly wish to be seen with me," I say, bitterly.
"And why not? Aw, those rumors getting to you? Give them something else to speak of I heard of a joust down south, we'll go but we must invite your brother I'm of the humor to dehorse him," Richmond says.
"You don't care?" I ask.
"My dear, precious little cousin. For one count I am well aware you do not voluntarily leave your room. You are NOT fucking. I know this. I also know your brother and his vile tongue to be the author of the rumors I do truly enjoy meeting the authors of any rumors I am not the author of, but your brother is the rare exception. And whatever innocent truths your brother may have based his heavy handed fiction on. On that I do not judge you, nor could I something in Scripture about flecks of wood and logs is that plain enough?" Richmond asks, cheerfully.
"Oh my god," I breath, as it does in fact become plain enough.
"That's the spirit. You're in fine company I'll write better rumors if you wish I am doing nothing on Thursday afternoon, bring me some good wine and I'll have it done in time for Sunday mass which should be I reckon before your father starts to comprehend innuendos," Richmond says.
"I may need you to do that," I say.
"Done I was probably going to do it anyway I do one good deed a month to keep in touch with the clergy, highly recommend it by the way and we're rich enough to keep some in our houses," he says.
"What are you—oh my god," I breath, I'm sure I'm going red.
"Shh, give me a few hours and I'll work your brother into my narrative which I'm annulling from reality—,"
"Oh don't!" I say, quickly.
"Oh so it is him then. I wasn't sure," he says, smirking. And I don't know what he means he knew Thomas started the rumor?
"Henry! I'm so pleased you're here," Edward runs up and nearly knocks us both over in a hug. He was aiming for me but he's getting tall and no less thick and Richmond who is somehow attached to me nearly goes down as well.
"It is good to see you, cousin," I say, diplomatically, "Perhaps it's best if I leave you both I hear you had an errand and I am not for company today."
"Absolutely not I shall have your precious time today. I'm ever so glad you came," Edward says, kissing my cheeks a he loops an arm over my shoulders, leaning on my other side.
"Everyone is speaking of me of late I should likely speak with you later," I say, as the prince continues to attach himself to me.
"Oh don't mind about what they say! We're royals it doesn't matter. They can't do anything the gossip entertains them you mustn't let it affect you. Anyway I'm ever so glad you're here it's nice to have someone to chat to not that Richmond isn't fun but Richmond has to be clever about everything—,"
"I admitted the blacksmiths are a good idea," Richmond groans.
"And I'm making him confess I am clever perhaps ten more times as is my right as a prince of England. Anyway you've come just in time to join us we're going to watch the blacksmiths work because I have very good ideas, cousin," Edward says, whacking Richmond's arm as they both lean on me.
"What?" I'm confused.
"The blacksmith's son and daughter are your age, Joan and Robin, he's ever so strong I like going down there to watch anyway it's been good for me but now father wants me interested in armor and that's to do with armor and now you can have the same excuse as well," Edward jabbers happily.
"We aren't there for the armor," Richmond says to me, helpfully.
I get it, "Oh my god."
"Right? I told you I have good ideas. This is why I'm going to be king someday," Edward says.
"It's —not, but I'm not denying the good idea. Could apply some of this problem solving to your Latin and not your viewing —oh stop I am the elder," Richmond says, as Edward goes over to maul him. The two wrestle for a moment, laughing, and I watch, surprised when no blood is drawn. I knew they wouldn't. But it's oddly soothing to watch them rough house in pure fun, Edward apologizing when he knocks our older cousin to the ground.
And I'm so used to doing as I'm told, I completely forget I could say that I don't fancy watching blacksmiths work. And then I get down there. And I find I do like watching blacksmiths work. I don't think the part that Richmond and Edward are watching. No. But the steady clang of metal. The sizzle when it's dipped into the cold water. And my companions don't say much of anything so I get to stand there in perfect silence, trying to match the rhythm of the pounding to a melody in my head.
"This was a good idea," I say, quietly.
"We know," Richmond and Edward sigh.
I go back to the song after that. The song of the forge, of the splash of water as the red hot metal drops in. Of the clanging of the great hammers, all set to the tune of crackling fire. And in my head, there is peace.