The Fiddler (Hand in Hand Chronicles)

Chapter 4 - "crawls to maturity, wherewith being crowned"

Our father fights in France. Our mother goes with him. But our father can still arrange our marraiges. To heiresses. They aren't of age. We're barely of age.
"But we have to get all that lovely money in the family," Thomas purrs. He's enthused. His proposed wife is rich.
"Mine shall hate me," I say, to please him.
"Yes more than likely," Thomas says.
The girl for me is named Maud. I've never met her. She's an only child I think, an orphan raised with family members. And very rich. She's a year my junior so she shan't marry me or come to live with me until she's sixteen. Thomas is supposed to get his wife sooner, as he's older. A girl named Alice. A girl I pity, she's been engaged to Thomas since she was nine, well we were nine. She's my age. But he can't take her to live with him till after she comes of age at sixteen. She's incredibly rich, more so than Maud. That's what we talk about. How rich they are. Which sounds awful but I am low on acceptable conversation topics with my brother like it is that and the weather, that is safe and I'm going with that. It sounds like it can't possibly be that terrible and yet it is. Case in point.
We're having a nice enough evening at Langley, chatting with Edward, who is now just fourteen and taller than any of us. Still the sweetest person alive I think. But I don't know a lot of people. I still think it's him. Anyway. Case in point.
"Henry and I shall be married soon. As will you if your father has his way," Thomas prefaces. I start to try to subtly signal to Edward to agree to nothing but Edward, he's not smart.
"That would require my father, to find a country he doesn't want to invade, which he has not yet done and so I have no bride. I'm well with that," Edward says, cheerfully. He's a bit young for all that but he's fine. I'm sure he'll be fine.
"The king may surprise you. And anyway Henry here shall also soon be in holy matrimony," Thomas says, putting a hand painfully on my knee he knows I was going to argue with whatever he says next, so it's going to be bad, "We should kidnap you off to a brothel."
"Eh, should we?" Edward asks, idly. He'll agree to anything if you ask him twice.
"Our fathers are away. Don't the pair of you want to go to your wedding beds with the proper experience?" Thomas asks. It's significant that he made a public and magnanimous point of not personally believing the rumors that he personally started about me. I said that sentence out loud once to Richmond and he laughed for about a minute.
"All right. It'd probably impress my father," Edward says.
"That's actually true," I breath. It is better his father thinks that than the alternative which is true in fact. I got invited down to the blacksmiths again I think I have an epic poem by now. No words just music in my head the way I like it.
"Right then, we'll go next week," Thomas doesn't want to give me much time to think my way out of it which I do try. Richmond isn't here, but I'm too proud to ask him to come anyway. I put out my fire at night and try to catch an actual cold but to no avail. I refuse to fall ill. And we're going into London to a brothel. The only thing that urges me on is the desire to look out for Edward. He's fourteen I feel like that's a bit young. I also feel like I'm a bit young but time doesn't often mean very much to me so I skip how I feel. And I don't want Edward to be scared or upset by the experience whatever the experience is I don't really know.
Thomas has been to brothels before I know for reasons I don't care to remember. At least he doesn't get in my room at night anymore since the night we almost killed each other but he still has so many hours in the day to talk to me.
There's a certain end of London which houses houses of ill repute. We're with only a few knights. Edward gets followed everywhere. These aren't his attendants. These are the men who get paid to shut up and enable this sort of activity. They're not here to stop him they're here to keep him safe. Edward is merry about all this. I tend to think Edward would be merry being led to execution. He chats happily to us while my stomach grows sick and Thomas smirks at how clearly uncomfortable I am and Edward is about to be. He makes a few lewd comments which Edward pointedly ignores.
The brothel Thomas takes us to knows him, they know him there. He acts like that's a good thing and I really think it's not. It's just like, a poor person's house. That smells of people and sweat. And there are too many people inside. I feel like I can't breath.
Plenty of sweaty, dirty men. And women, mostly scantily clothed, all sweaty and filthy. I look at Edward, prepared to take Thomas' wrath and flee. I was not taking into account Edward's ability to be the goddamn human version of a hound puppy, in any situation.
"Hello, what's your name?" Edward asks, walking right up to a young girl, so pleasantly.
"Anne," she says, looking at us and our nice clothes. She might not know who he is but she knows we're rich.
"Hello Anne, I'm Edward of Caernerfon, how long have you lived in London?" Well now she knows who he is.
There are so many people in here. And it's noisy there are overlapping conversations. And Thomas is paying and kissing a girl, simultaneously you'd think he'd be better at the fiddle by now. And I feel sick. There are so many people here it's so loud. I hate it here. I wish I were home. In bed.
Edward's made now three friends. That is not an innuendo. He is making cheerful conversation with now three girls, he is just chatting with them, asking them about their lives. A couple more are coming over.
And it's incredibly loud with all the overlapping chatter. And I can't stand the smell of other people's sweat. I want to leave. I want to go. I do not want to talk to any of these people. That is the last thing I want to do. I wish someone would just kill me. It doesn't even have to be Thomas.
Edward has made five friends. They are all sitting down now about a low table and I may be having a stroke but I think he's talking to them about food. Fish specifically but also just food. The girls are laughing and talking.
Why can't I be like that? Is that normal? Is Thomas going upstairs with two girls normal? Why am I so concerned about normal when I want to scream? I've never wanted to scream. I can't recall the last time I screamed. When I was a little boy perhaps? I don't remember all those memories are locked away where this one will be. God I feel sick.
Edward now has about six friends, they are definitely talking about food because someone is bringing them food now. I know he knows why we're here because Thomas wouldn't shut up about it on the ride and even I didn't block him out the entire time. I did try. And now we're here. And he'll know if I didn't. So stop standing here like a statue. If the fourteen year old can make—seven now—friends I can certainly pay a girl to fuck.
Which is how I wind up walking up to the nearest girl, heart hammering in my chest.
"What's your name?" She asks, putting a hand on my chest.
I remove her hand, "I need to go."
And then I turn around and walk outside into the night. I walk into the middle of the London street and scream. I can't recall the last time I did that. But I'm breathing the night air. And I feel perhaps a quarter bit better. Which is more than I was.  I want so badly to disappear. This is all pain. Why is everything pain?
"Oi, you all right?"
"No," I whisper, turning to the source of the voice. A squire, probably my age, watching someone's horses. He's a bit grubby clearly not very well kept, with dusty yellow hair and light eyes.
"Oh, I don't know why I asked that I can't do anything," he shrugs.
"No, no you can't. I'm—," I'm not fine. "I'll keep. I'm having, an ill night. I'm tired is all."
"Didn't feel like going out?" He offers.
"No," I say, walking over. His eyes focus on my fine clothes. And that I can't be much older than him.
"You a noble or something?" He asks.
"Oh no I'm not anyone. I'm just Henry," I say, "I came with important people. Same as you I'd expect."
"Yeah. I have to watch the horses though," he says, looking at the fine mounts.
"Well, I'd trade places with you. It's rather loud in there, too many people," I say.
"Even so, not like someone like me'll get kissed any other way," he says, rubbing his face with his hand.
"What nobody you fancy?" I ask.
"No. Most I've probably talked to someone in weeks. I don't get on with anyone else, at the master's," he says. And I finally pick up on his accent. He's Welsh. He's not left out here he's probably not allowed inside. Most of our staff at Grosmont are Welsh I know the odd phrase even that's why I wasn't really noticing.
"Ah, I'm like this by design it seems, not having many friends," I say, "anyway it's all rot in there. The girls aren't even pretty. And they only take your money."
"You'd be right. When they said they were going I was excited is all. I fancied getting kissed as it's my birthday," he says.
"Come here then," I say, holding up a hand.
"What?" He laughs.
"Not pretty enough? Go on claim your kiss," I say.
He leans forward, and I kiss him. It's surprisingly engaging, considering I'd not thought of how until a second before we began. But our arms fumble to hold each other and we kiss more passionately than I think either of us supposed.
"What's your name?" I ask.
"Celyn."
"Henry. Grandson of a king, there's a story you can tell your children," I say.
"Go off," he laughs.
I kiss him again and we lean into each other's arms, locked in the embrace till we're out of breath and nearly giddy. We'd go on but the door to the brothel opens. So we step apart, wiping our mouths and overall trying to act more natural than is necessary.
"That's my men," he whispers.
"Happy Birthday, Celyn," I say, winking, then I back away. That was the strangest thing I've ever done. I don't regret it a bit. I'll never see him again. My secret is safe. And I get some small piece of enjoyment.
I re-enter the brothel, mostly to check on Edward. Edward is still sitting chatting, he has  twelve new friends now by the basic hand gestures he's describe his favorite greyhounds. They're definitely talking about dogs.
Thomas is coming down the stairs. He laughs when he sees my face. I realize after a moment that my cheeks are clearly flushed and I'm probably still a bit manhandled with respect to my clothes.
"Feel better? Real man?" Thomas asks, patting my chest.
"Yes—real man," I say, trying to hide the contempt in my voice. And amusement given what I've really been doing.
Thomas looks over at Edward, "Is he—?"
"Spending quality time with his twelve new friends, yeah they've not moved," I say.
"How did he just—make friends?" Thomas asks.
"I don't know," I laugh.
He didn't just make friends. No. He hired them is what he did. Not in the sordid way. That boy offered them real jobs if they wanted to leave. He also paid them all for their time.
"You should be appreciative you'll have local whores at Langley," I say, stopping Thomas from dragging Edward bodily away as he says goodbye to every one with hugs and offers of money.
"Don't make this all right. There is no benefit to me. They won't work for me anymore he'll pay them too well!" Thomas growls.
Edward walks up and says, "That was pleasant, is anyone hungry?"
I can see Thomas plotting and he covers his face with one hand, "Yeah, let's go find food."
We find an inn where Edward makes three new friends, and Thomas visibly loses the will to support his future monarch. What Edward is doing is not irritating, unless you're a Thomas or something that hates happiness like that.
I overall count it as a success. And then I get another stroke of luck. Thomas is leaving to join our father and mother on campaign. And I'm to stay here and meet my bride, and run the estates. With their instructions. But damn if I won't take it.
Grosmont isn't one of my favorite houses but our father tells me to stay there and await instruction. Fine. At fifteen Maud is deemed old enough to come and live with me.
And I am free.
Thomas is on another continent, so are our parents. I'm free to do as I like. I can walk around for hours. I can play my fiddle on the rooftop where no one can hear me. I can play chess all night and nobody stops me. I go days barely saying two words. It's simply beautiful. I don't know if this happiness. But it is something very close to peace. I wake up everyday and tell myself I'm safe. I'm not drowning anymore. For the first time in my life I'm free in my solitude.
So of course somebody else is set to come. My wife, but still. Maud is now fifteen and old enough to consummate the marriage, or just about as I'm sixteen.
Maud is being sent with her own set of servants, so I'm not to worry about that. I designate a wing in Grosmont for her use and have tapestries put up, I also make sure her allowance is budgeted for from my own income. There is to be no proper wedding, as we're already legally married it's all been done on paper so she's just coming like a shipment of cloth or something. She's never laid eyes on me. I'm sure nobody has told her about my neck.
She and her party arrive to Grosmont late one summer evening. I'm summoned from playing chess with myself quietly. I don't bother to change. She will not be looking at my clothes.
Maud is riding a sturdy white pony, she's in a dark brown dress, and has dark hair mostly braided and swept up from her face. She's handsome, with dark eyes that settle on me as she carefully studies my neck, and sees that I don't move my head at all.
"Welcome to Grosmont, I'm Henry," I say, bowing.
They help her from her horse and she comes to me, curtseying, "You must forgive me my lord. We've traveled far today and hit rain for a while."
"Nothing to forgive," I say. She looks fine. She's beautiful. She must know she's beautiful. I'm sure it's a mockery of me. "We'll have supper tonight if you're feeling able. For now I'm sure all of you wish to rest from the road. My men will show you to your rooms."
"Thank you," she says.
One successful interaction of married life down. An entire lifetime to go. Hopefully one of us dies. I'm completely fine if that's me. In fact it should be me.
I don't see Maud again until supper. Now her hair is down and she's in a dark blue dress with pink stitching, and pink ribbons in her hair. Cheeks not as sweetly flushed as from riding.
We sit down to eat, I nod politely at her. I made the previous conversation she can honestly do this one marriage is a partnership.
"It's a fine castle," Maud says.
"Yes," I agree. Agreeing with people usually pleases them. I have a lifetime of knowledge I can make pleasant conversation that upsets no one. Now I ask her something or make a generic statement, "How did you find the journey?"
"Well. I've never been to Wales," she says.
That does not require a response so I nod a little. My neck is rather tight today.
She looks at me then around a bit, "Were you born here?"
Does she want to know if my neck is like this from birth?
"Yes," I say. She is doing a line of questioning. She will likely have more.
She breaths out, looking down at her plate. She's saying nothing more. I know I don't like being talked to when I'm quiet I prefer being quiet so I say nothing at all.
"Are you always this talkative?" She asks. There it comes all right.
"Much worse I'm afraid I'm usually ill company," self derision usually deflects and at least throws them off enough to think of a new tactic. I am doing so well at this.
"Well at least you're aware," she says, smiling a little. So that is positive? It didn't require a response maybe she'll think like I'd like to be.
I go back to eating, quietly. She eats a little. It would be rude to ask why she's not hungry so I do not. We will be expected to consummate the marriage. I'm not dreading it as at least I'm alone and doing a very good job talking to her.
We go to our rooms, I to bathe and change. Then as is the custom at midnight I go to hers.
"You up?" I ask, knocking the door.
"Yes I never fell asleep," Maud sighs, letting me in. She's in a white night dress, bare feet on the stone floor.
"Are you well with this tonight? I care very little," I say, gesturing between us.
"No it's what I expected," she says, going back to sit on the bed, "Why don't you care?"
"I don't care about things. Generally," I say.
"Even me?"
I gesture vaguely, "I am rich."
"What does that mean?"
"I have money. It makes up, for marrying a Wryneck," I gesture to myself.
"Is that what it's called?" She asks.
I nod, "it's not contagious, rather—it's an injury. No child would have it." I blush.
"How did it happen?"
"I don't remember. I was a little—child, infant I suppose," I say.
"Oh," she nods a little bit, "Why don't we just talk a minute?"
I'm good at talking, "All right." I lean against the wall, folding my arms.
"Ah—what do you do for fun?" She asks.
"Fun?"
"Yes like, are you fond of hunting or?"
Don't let it show. Never let anyone know what makes you happy. "Yes. Or jousting. A good feast. Time spent with friends. Typical pursuits. And you?" I ask. That was good I gave multiple details and asked her a question.
"I like riding, and horses," she says.
"There are good trails about you'll likely enjoy it," I say.
"Okay," she sighs a little bit looking down, "Let's not talk."
"Yes let's not," I say, relieved. I should say something polite to put her at ease, "I'm pleased you made it safely."
"Thank you," she says, frowning a little, "Just—get on with it then."
"Right," I say, stepping over to the bed. She crawls back a bit, little feet off the floor but pale with cold. I can feel an elbow in my throat. Waiting pretending to sleep. Wondering if tonight is when he'll accidentally kill me.
"I can't—I can't do this," I say, stepping back, rubbing my face, "Ah let's not."
Relief flashes in her eyes as she sits up, "Yes let's not."
"It's not you it's um—definitely me. Definitely, it's me don't—let's just not and act as though we did?" I ask.
"Sounds good, yes," she nods, hugging herself.
"Just say we did it's fine. It's um—I'll be a very good husband. I'm very good at not being—anything," I say, going to the door
"Why?" She asks, frowning.
"Why —?" I spin a hand to indicate I don't know what she means.
"Why are you good at not being anything?"
"It's ah—I just—it's survival really. I don't—that's it really. You see if I crush everything I've felt or wanted to feel and never let it out then I'm okay, so—yes that's it. Goodnight," I say, and then I leave before she asks me anything more.
I keep all my feelings that I fear might hurt me locked up until I make my way all the way up to the ramparts. There I'm alone so I scream, because no one can hear me. It's safe because I'm completely alone. The only time I'm safe.
I press the heels of my hands to my head. It'll be all right. She won't even like me. That's that over with. We'll never have to talk or interact again it'll be fine.
Literally the next day, at luncheon.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, coming in to find Maud already sitting down. She's wearing another soft blue dress.
"I live here, we're married," she says, like I'm the idiot in this conversation.
"Why would we eat meals together?" I ask, confused, "There are a lot of rooms really we don't have to even see each other everyday."
"Why are we in the same castle then? If you don't want to see me?" She asks.
"Firstly I don't not want to see you. I don't want you to see me there's a very great—very significant difference there. And we're in the same castle for reasons I'm not comfortable going into as I don't like thinking about them," I say. Because she's safe here. She belongs to me so she could be hurt.
"Okay that's all—something I'll think on. Look I wanted to talk, seriously, about—well us," she says, "I want to try to get on. I don't want to be unhappy all my life. We don't have to be—anything. But let's at least be friends?"
"We—yes right. I'm not—much good at people," I say, sitting down because apparently she's not going to leave.
"I gathered," Maud says.
"Like I'm all right with—like, I can be charming and such. I'm just not—very—real. That's all. I hold you no ill will this is just me," I say.
"Okay," Maud nods, looking down at her hands, "Why'd you agree to marry then?"
"I'm—I just do things. The money. And my father told me it was happening I'm not—resisting is worse," I say, massaging my neck which is tight with pain.
"Okay," she says, "Have you—thought about talking to someone about this? Like, a priest or someone?"
"No it's um—I don't usually talk this much."
"Right."
"You can go; we don't have to do this. How about we take meals separately?" I ask.
"Well if we want to be friends and at least get on, for practicality, we should probably try to see each other now and then."
"I think once a week or year should do it that's—you've pretty much got a good grip on me I should think I'm well with you," I say, standing up. I want to leave so I can. She can't keep me here.
"All right Henry, yes, once a week should do it," she breaths.
"So this will be for this week then to be clear, good," I say, sitting down to read my messages. If I do that with lunch then I won't have to this afternoon there's a corner turret where nobody goes so I go there to practice music I have a new song I want to play.
"I was thinking, other than the weekly lunches, why don't we go hunting? Or something?" Maud offers.
"Or we could not ah—sorry I was just reading this if you wish to we can," I say.
"What are you reading?" She asks.
"Messages from France. It seems my father died," I say, looking down at it, "Yes, looks like it. Anyway go on you were saying? I'd not have started reading if I'd known you were going to keep talking."
"Henry, your father died?" She asks, upset, "I'm very sorry."
"No it's all right this has happened, a couple of times in my dreams, and a few more times in my head, I'm well," I say, waving a hand dismissively.
"You—are you sure you're okay?" She asks.
"It makes everything a bit worse. But. That's what happens with life isn't it? Everything always keeps getting a bit worse. And the eventually, hopefully, I'll finally die so the pain can stop. So it doesn't really matter —go on? As I said I'd not have started all this if I'd known you were going to keep talking," I say.
Maud is just staring at me.
"What is it?" I ask.
"I can't put it into words just yet. What does this—oh we should write to your mother. And are there any instructions there?" She asks.
"No. Thomas doesn't generally trust me to do things and my father was very organized it's all sorted. And my father gave me this keep and well some others so we're sorted ah about that—if—should I—be not here, for any reason. And you're here. And you see a man who looks like me but a bit handsomer, red hair a bit lean looks like he wants to kill you? That's my brother Thomas he likely, there exists the chance he wants to kill you there's excellent fortifications that's why we live here just—ah, don't let him in," I say, going back to the messages, "My brother John is fine last I checked but our parents wanted him to stay in France I don't expect he'll come back and I don't expect our mother shall either. She doesn't really like me. People don't that's nothing against her I don't try to be—anything."
"We are not fixing him," Maud breaths, face in hands, "We said we weren't going to do this. We're better than this."
"Who—are you speaking to if that was to me I didn't get it?" I ask.
"Not to you at all," she looks up, smiling, "Completely fine. Tell me about your childhood."
"It was mostly here. My father wasn't about much if that was the—because of this I was supposed to die," I point at my neck, "And yours?"
"Made me think I should be better than I feel right now. I knew I'd marry someone who wanted my money," she says.
"And? How is that?" I ask.
"Didn't think it would be you," she has her face in her hand.
"Right then, ah, well if you need anything between our I think we should really make it biannually, lunches, let me know I'll be—being quiet other places in the castle," I say.
"We're doing weekly and you don't have to say anything," she says.
"That'll likely go better to be honest, I could—suggest monthly right okay."
We do weekly.
She keeps her promise though and doesn't try to talk to me. Sometimes she'll tell me about a hunt she went on or a book she read. I'm good with casual conversation it's how I survived my childhood so I do rather well with that. She's settling in and seems content. And life is quiet here. Even with the unwelcome houseguest that is my wife I'm primarily at peace. She doesn't bother me other than the weekly meals. We take mass together if I forget she's here and attend. Otherwise I play chess in my room for hours. I do my work. I walk through the fields with the dogs. I have some greyhounds from Edward's line that are charming pets. Richmond gave me a wolfhound. I like it. I walk the dogs. Sometimes if I dare I go down and look at the river. Late I go to the empty turrets and play my fiddle where absolutely no one can hear me.
I get word Thomas is back in the country. But he has all of our father's estates now, between that and Alice he's one of the richer men in England. That's probably not good for him or me but whatever. He can't enter Grosmont. And I've quietly given orders that no one is to be admitted without my express permission. That's given some problems with deliveries but Maud hasn't even asked why.
And so the only time I have to submit the mortifying ordeal of leaving leaving my home, is if Edward expressly summons us for a feast or other. It's not really us it's me. Maud insists on coming. Well. She uses logic it's annoying. Edward doesn't do it too often but once a year I do go and can't say I'm ill when I'm not.
"You really don't have to come. You're completely safe here and no one else is here I wouldn't come if I were you you can stay here where it's quiet and safe," I say, confused.
"It's a feast. We never do anything," she says.
"Yes that is by design," I say.
"It's implied I'm coming," she says.
"Where?" I ask.
"The bit where it says "bring your wife'," she points at the paper.
"That's like a suggestion I think. Anyway do as you will but I don't get better at feasts," I say.
"Do you not want me coming?"
"Not really, weekly dinners are enough," I say. She's pretty and I don't know what to do with that. I'm used to her and I don't like being used to people. It means I'll be hurt soon.
"Would you rather make silted conversations with me or total strangers?" Maud asks, folding her arms.
"So you'll be ready to leave at dawn?"
"Certainly!"
We leave just after dawn. She's ready, I am too but I delay a bit hoping she'll go back inside where it's safe. She's never met my brother. I don't know what Thomas will do but it'll be something and I'm only just comfortable. I was well with my life so far I didn't need it spoilt this quickly.
I thought I would be better for having had such sweet repose at Grosmont. But it's not to be. My stomach is in knots as ever. I say perhaps two words to Maud which is likely one more than she was expecting.  I just don't want to do this and go out and talk to people and have bad things happen when I could be at home. Why doesn't everyone leave me alone it hurts less? Do they want to see me suffer?
But I can't let Edward down. I fear his wrath and he's usually kind to me. Besides Thomas would do something while I'm not there and then they'd all hate me anyway. I might as well see what he's going to do.
"Tall red hair, lean, usually wearing black, like me, like me with his head straight all right? If he talks to what you do is you find something else to do, and you leave, or you act like someone called to you, all right?" I ask, gripping Maud's arm.
"Got it," she says, "I don't think I've met your brother's wife?"
"Well I've never seen them in the same room together, so, not counting on it," I say. I met Alice once last Christmas Thomas wasn't there so I was enjoying myself. Alice seemed fine but she was not living with my brother by choice, so, clever. She's my and Maud's age.
"Is there—anyone you like to talk to?" Maud asks with less judgement than is called for.
"So he'll walk up behind me eventually I don't enjoy things but—don't do that Richmond," I groan, as the taller man wraps an arm around my neck.
"It's good training for you—pleasure call me Richmond," Richmond waves at Maud, still hugging me firmly, "We're vying for the next Scottish campaign."
"No I don't really fancy it I like my home—,"
"We're in the princes' party it's likely to be quite bloody Thomas could die."
"I'm coming."
"There's the spirit. Edward will likely hate it—sorry I'm kidnapping your husband fair lady but there isn't anyone with a brain to talk to, and someone needs to be aware of how clever I am," Richmond says.
"I wasn't aware my husband spoke voluntarily so it's a surprise," Maud says.
"Oh he doesn't but he knows I'm clever so I'll take what I can get. I bring no wife to amuse you, I'm afraid, but our cousins are getting drunk and beating Lord Edward at cards someplace," Richmond says, as we walk in, "So are you prepared for the current gossip as well as my amusements?"
"This has been good I'm going to—I'll just go play with the minstrels honestly," I say, holding up my fiddle.
"I'll take the gossip," Maud says.
"Excellent it'll be more amusing when I say it, I'll come when your brother makes his usual circuit, but he's honestly got other entertainments more amusing to him," Richmond says, shaking my shoulders affectionately.
"He brought his wife?" Maud asks.
"Amusing to a Lancaster, that is other's happiness he can quickly turn to misery. There let that be a lesson in survival. Why am I adopting children tonight? Nobody answer that. Yes, go on Henry go play for us and avoid conversations. Do you want me to tell people you aren't even here?"
"God, will you?" I ask, hopefully.
"For free yes, come my dear I'll show you to some people who will have proper conversations, women are full of wit I should find one but I'm not cruel enough to inflict myself upon a wife, anyway, come along," Richmond says, guiding Maud away.
Thomas is making his rounds but he's not spotted me. I slip into a corner to play my fiddle. Not well. I play some old tunes that will easily be drown out by chatter. But at least I can focus on the music and nothing else. I make mistakes here and there so it just sounds amateur. I wouldn't want anyone to notice me.
Thomas finds me partway through the night. He snatches my fiddle from my hands.
"Give me that! Your playing is giving me a headache how are you still terrible?"
"I don't know," I say, as if it isn't by design and it is. "Should we talk about father dying?"
"No, I wouldn't think so. Now focus. This is going to be immensely diverting. Edward's got a pretty knight he's keeping for amorous reasons," Thomas says.
I wait for him to go on. He's not. "And? There's wine at the table?" I ask. Is he stating obvious things as a word game?
"He's not even hiding that he's a sodomite," Thomas growls.
"Oh like you pretend I am," I nod.
He stares at me.
"Not only do I know you started that rumor, everyone knows it," I say, "Joke's you I don't look like something anyone would want to fuck."
"Not really but that fact alone makes you rather the punchline. Now focus," Thomas shakes my shoulder, "Edward has a pet sodomite. Here. At court. That's going to be a lot of fun for me you do realize."
"If I didn't know you do you know that sounded?" I ask.
He cuffs my head, "All the easier to destroy him my darling. You know I love watching people tear themselves apart."
"Hm, yes," I say, pitying whoever he has in his sights. I can't stop him. I can't warn them either warn them of what? That he's not to be trusted? That's obvious, look at him.
"Don't get in the way, I'm off." Thank god.
"Right," I have no fiddle now. I suppose I'll just exist not talking to people. I go over to the fire to pretend to be melancholy that should work. My wife is over talking to some of our cousins that's nice she'll like that.
Richmond comes to find me, after a time, bringing food and more wine that I wasn't going to get. I was staring into the fire playing chess in my head it was diverting enough.
"D'you think I could head out?" I ask.
"Not without your wife, man. She seems pleasant. You see Thomas yet?" Richmond asks.
"Aye he took my fiddle."
"I'd care about that but I do believe I have a child now," he says.
"I assume this is metaphor?"
"Of course it is. If I bed a woman you're allowed to shoot me I'm out of my senses," Richmond says.
"Become a priest?" I suggest, "Or a monk."
"How would I drink fine wine all day do very very little, go to war, and keep priests in my house locally?" He asks.
"I don't know, I'm not in the mood tonight," I sigh.
"I just came to ensure you were still with us but I really do have a situation here," he says.
"A situation more important than sneaking off to find better wine with me?" I ask.
"It's your brother."
"Aye go have fun."
"I am not," Richmond mutters, leaving.
I wonder what Thomas is doing but not enough to wish for him to come back and talk to me. He does anyway. I'm back to staring into the fire finishing my game and trying to block out the sound of everyone talking.
"The boy is an insolent prig," Thomas snarls.
"Whom?" I don't know why I asked that I don't want to know.
"Edward's pretty toy, Frenchman named Gaveston," Thomas snarls, "He called me 'fiddler', and mocked me."
It's significant Thomas is still carrying my fiddle.
"And? That's not really derogatory is it? A fiddler plays things you play people, fiddling is actually quite hard, it denotes complete control, and manipulation it's actually sort of a good thing, if you think about it which I just did," I say.
"It was meant to mock me."
I fully doubt he introduced himself to some probably idiot fourteen year old. Edward's only fifteen it's probably a squire he likes. Good for him. The dumb kid probably genuinely thought Thomas was a minstrel.
"Fine be cross I wish someone would call me the Fiddler," I mutter.
"Well it would be better than Wryneck," Thomas snarls, "Anyway I thought you should know to stay out of the way. I'm going to ruin him."
"You were going to do that anyway. Don't look at me like that. You were completely going to do that anyway you literally told me that when we first spoke," I say.
He stares at me.
"You literally told me, also of course you were going to do that. You destroy everything you touch it's an art form with you," I say.
"Don't try to stop me. That's all. If you want you can join in the fun," Thomas purrs.
"I'm well watching, brother, you know I'm a spectator," I say.
"You are. Never going to really live your life."
"I don't have a life," I say.
"That's my boy," he kisses my cheek. I want to move away but I don't. He leaves, taking my fiddle with him.  That's a disappointment. Oh well.
I decide to find Edward's pretty boy, not to warn him, just see if he's clever enough to survive. Likely not. But he did insult Thomas and annoy him so the man deserves my thanks.
I find the boy, incredibly out of place, probably Edward's age, dead handsome, with mossy green eyes and soft dark hair. Just impossibly pretty. Dressed up like a doll in clothes he doesn't know how to wear.
"You must be Gaveston," I guess.
He looks up, eyes flashing with defiance, "Good for you knowing that? D'you want a prize?"
"A couple people mentioned you is all," I say.
"I'm very happy for all of you, glad I'm such entertainment," he says, blushing furiously. He's clearly embarrassed. Well he would be.
"I also hear you insulted my brother?"
"Probably? How the —how would I know who your brother is? When there's some nation wide moritorum on actually introducing yourselves?" He snarls.
"I'm Henry," I say.
"Do you have any idea how little that narrows anything down? And does not identify your brother at all?" He breaths.
"Henry of Lancaster, my older brother is Thomas of Lancaster, fellow who looks exactly like me. We're nephews of the king, and so, a bit famous, also I'm hard to miss," I say.
"Okay. Thank you was that hard? Genuine question," he says.
"People been talking to you all night like you should know who they are then simply walking away?" I guess.
"Is this like some sort of game rich folk do?"
"We usually know who we are," I say, "Anyway, yes my brother Thomas, also red haired, dressed in black."
"Creepy fiddle person!" He snaps his fingers. Jesus Christ this kid dumb.
"That would be him look the reason I came is you called him fiddler—,"
"He started whispering in my ear weird and upsetting things and he was carrying a fiddle so yeah—?"
"And it's not even his fiddle it's mine if we're going to start something about him I'm his brother I have a lifetime of material tell him you got it from me and I'll kill you," I say.
"That is the third time tonight me dying has come up why are all of you like this?" He asks, about to cry yeah really dumb.
"It's mostly me and Thomas look we don't have a lot of time but once Thomas was bitten by a camel and it's important to me a lot of people know that and you're very sarcastic the knowledge should rest well with you," I say.
"Nothing anyone has said is making sense I want to scream," he whispers, drinking his wine.
"Do you know what people call me?" I ask.
He pauses a long moment, "Fuck...you just told me...fuck—Henry!"
Very stupid. Unless it's an act. No no one is that great an actor.
"Good job," I pat his arm.
He glares at me.
"Angry child, right, I'm going to go avoid talking to people I recommend it, fair haired man over there drinking from two cups of wine, Richmond—,"
"I met him, he introduced himself too," so proud.
"—yes he's all right see him if you need something, not me, like if something vile happens to you,," I say. That's the most I can do.
"Can you people—go one conversation without a threat?" He breaths.
I just leave him, returning to my place by the fire. Ideally no one will ever speak to me again and I can think my own thoughts and be quiet. Naturally that doesn't happen but it's a fine two minutes.
"You quit playing," Maud states the obvious, coming over to check I haven't bolted presumably.
I don't say anything that was a statement. She looks beautiful tonight. Red ribbons in her hair even though she's got it braided up.  It looks beautiful down but her neck is beautiful too.
"Why do you always play poorly?" Maud asks, cocking her head.
"I'm not very good," I say, blushing.
"Yet you practice almost everyday. And when you play you don't miss complicated notes. Usually you mess up simple ones. Almost like you're doing your best to seem ordinary," Maud says.
"I'm not any good," I repeat, looking down at my calloused fingers.
"Will you play for me sometime? I'd like to hear you play something you like," Maud says.
"Not here," I say, looking around quickly. "Yes." Why did I just say that?
"I'll look forward to it," she smiles. That soft and nearly sly smile, almost biting her lip, bit crooked.
She walks back into the crowd. I breath. What is wrong with me? Why did I agree to that? I as much as admitted she was right what game is this? I fear I'm no good at playing it. Perhaps some more sugar will fix me. Unlikely but I am getting hungry.  No that's Edward he will definitely talk to me I'm in no humor no—
"Henry! I'm so pleased you came! You never come to these things," Edward says, kissing my cheeks.
"It's nice, yes how are you?" I ask, weakly, as he smothers me in a hug.
"Have you met Gaveston? He's lovely isn't he?" Edward asks, clearly infatuated. Oh Thomas is going to love this.
"I did he seemed definitely yes I'm going to go remain by the fire, how about you go and find him and don't leave him alone possibly," I say.
"Smile! It's a feast have some fun for a minute," he kisses me again.
I sigh. I'm not fun. I watch him wade back into the partiers probably looking for his pretty knight. At least he's happy. He's happy even though that will never go well. That's not fair. At least he gets that how can he be so blissfully happy? Is it just being stupid? Is that what does it or is it something else I lack?
"Hello Henry," Alice says, approaching. She's Thomas' wife, a nice girl, my age we've met twice. She doesn't live with Thomas. Tall as us with pretty blue eyes and black hair.
"I believe this is yours?" She holds out my fiddle.
"How'd you get that?" I ask, taking it.
"I found it in my husband's hands, oddly enough," she says.
"Right, how did you get it?" I ask.
"My husband now thinks I'm pregnant," she says.
"Congratulations—?"
"I said thinks."
"You didn't have to do that," I say, hugging the instrument all the same.
"In perhaps ten minutes he'll realize it's a lie. I was going to do that anyway," she says, smiling, "He set that down to throttle me. Richmond's talking him round. I picked it up and came over here."
"So typical feast?"
"Typical feast," she winks, then backs away to go join the other women.
I go back to playing quietly. Not well at all I don't want Thomas to notice. He has to bother me at least once more tonight he didn't even bother me specifically.
Sure enough he comes. I just have time to hide the fiddle behind my back and look like I'm just standing here.
"All right I've been thinking—," Thomas says.
"You've decided how I shall die?"
"No, I chose that ages ago don't be flippant. We're both getting older. I need an heir to inherit my estates. One of us needs to sacrifice himself and father a legitimate child and I think that one of us should be you," Thomas says.
"Why me?" I ask, "We determined I'm useless."
"Because you've seen my wife. She's vile!"
"You're nice?" I ask, legitimately confused.
"She's vile. And cold I might as well make love to a slab of ice—,"
"That's, disgustingly specific—,"
"Shut up. Your wife is handsome enough, wide hips, she could bear you a few children with no trouble, get drunk and take her to bed. Or I'll do it for you," he says.
Panic builds in my chest.
"She can't conceive all right?" I ask.
"What?" He doesn't want to believe me.
"I've been to her bed plenty of times—yes I know how to do it don't—don't—it isn't me you know I had a child by my game keepers' daughter—,"
"You did not," Thomas stares at me.
"I thought you knew that? I thought we agreed you knew all my secrets?" I ask. It's water tight. The game keepers daughter did have a child out of wedlock, but the father was one of my laborers he died before he could marry her sad, I keep her on obviously.
"You're getting clever," Thomas laughs, patting my chest.
"I'm telling you the woman is useless. I've had her locked up at Grosmont in my house and bed for what we're going on three years? No child."
"So father sabotaged us both," Thomas sneers.
"Give me time, if I get a bastard with red hair pass it off as hers, no one comes out there anyway," I say.
"Oh that's true we could do that. Who says the bitch has to bear it? I mean, Alice would tell."
"Yes she'd tell."
"Would your Maud go along with it?" He frowns.
"Save her the embarrassment that she can't satisfy me. It might take a bit of time but I can work on her," I say, "Wear her down. Pretty soon she shan't know what's day or night. Let alone if the child is hers or not."
"I have schooled you well little brother," Thomas laughs, messing with my hair, "You'd be nothing without me. You'd still be a little frightened little boy. Begging for his doll back. Now look at you."
I smile thinly, "Yes." That's all I say. Yes. Another agreement.  Submitting to him once again.
"Work on that. I could use an heir," Thomas says, shaking my shoulder again.
"Of course," I say, smiling again. Of course I'll do anything you say. Just give me a bit of praise. Of course I'll keep crawling back no matter what hell you serve to me.
I wait until he is across the room to play again. The simplest tune I can think of. But I need something to take my mind off of it. We need to leave in the morning. He may have bought it but I'll never have him near my wife again. In fact we should probably leave tonight. But he can't know. But the cost is too great to stay. We leave tonight. If he gets suspicious so what? I'll be at Grosmont.
I find Richmond. He's mostly drunk.
"How long do you think you can convince people I'm here when I've gone?" I ask.
"Long," he says, taking another drink of wine.
"My brother specifically?"
"Three days minimum he's very distracted by my child right now—Gaveston! Come! Sit, sit there, stop walking around. Do not talk to people," Richmond herds the ill mannered boy over. The boy sits, clearly annoyed, dark hair hanging in his face, "I was just—,"
"No. Do you want to talk to them? Stop talking to them. Christ," Richmond sighs.
"Why are you trying to keep him alive?" I ask.
Richmond takes a breath, "Because, Henry, some things are worth caring about. And in the grand scheme of all the universe, I would like to believe that it matters that we tried. Even we fail. Even if it is all hell in the end. That we tried to do something good, if only for a moment."
I look away.
"I know you save nothing but yourself, dear boy. But some people are worth saving," he says.
"Give me the three days? I'll repay you," I say.
"Come to Scotland," he kisses my cheeks quickly, "Go on then. Don't forget your girl."
"I will not," I say.
Maud is speaking with some of the other women. She's wearing a green dress, there's color to her cheeks. Red ribbons in her hair. She does look pretty. She usually looks pretty.
"We're um—can I talk to you?" I ask.
"Yes, of course," Maud says, quickly nodding to the other women, then stepping away from the crowd with me, "What is it?"
"Urgent um—we're leaving. Tonight," I say, "Right now. You're coming and—we need to leave."
"Okay," she nods, "Ah—let me say goodbye."
"No they're going to think we're here we're walking directly out that door and leaving and you're never going to ask me why, all right?" I ask.
"All right," she says, studying my face, like there will lie some truth I will not allow to pass my lips.
"Come," I hold out a hand, tentatively.
She takes it, and lets me lead her from the crowded room. To her credit she waits while I tell the staff to get our things, and we are finally on horseback, before she attempts speaking to me again. It's dark out. If we ride hard we could possibly be home by supper tomorrow.
"I can't know why we had to leave?" Maud asks.
"I shouldn't think so. No. No. It's much better this way. I know what's best. And it's best we leave now. I want you to be happy," maybe it's happier not knowing anything at all. That is what it feels like. And looks like look at Edward he doesn't know anything happy as ever. And being me isn't any good.
We do make it home before supper which is a pleasure. And Maud doesn't really speak to me the rest of the way. Normally that would be a pleasure. But. I find I don't mind her company. She's not once had a cruel word out of the ordinary humor. And she left with me when I asked.
I think about Richmond's words. He said to me, 'some people are worth saving'. And he said I always save myself. This doesn't feel like I've saved myself. I want to stop drowning. I'm forever drowning. And one of these days I have to swim.
But I have to wade in first.
I wait until midnight, about a week after we've returned. I'm sure Maud forgot our conversation about my fiddling, she was only saying it to make conversation with me which failed. As usual. Due to me. It is my fault I know. And it's usually intentional but less so with her.
I can try to start being honest with her. I can bear the pain when she can't love me back, if it means I get some small glimpse of what it feels like to love someone.
But to do that I have to start being honest with her. Not actually honest. But closer to my so well guarded heart.
I get one of my finer fiddles, and steal out into the yard. Below her window, in the inner ward. The entire courtyard washed in moonlight.  I could have told her I was doing this. I'm not that brave yet. But I do acknowledge I probably should have told her first. It doesn't matter. I'm doing it. I'm stepping in that's what counts.
I nestle the fiddle under my tipped chin, and slowly begin to play. Quietly at first. The sound echoes off the walls. And after a moment I begin to play faster.
Maud's window opens. And she leans out. White nightdress, night wind wind blowing her dark hair.
I begin to play faster. Not a specific melody but a few maybe I heard them somewhere maybe they're made up. I don't know how they got in my head to begin with. But I liked them because they're tricky to play. I can play like this for hours. Till my fingers bleed. I don't look up at her watching me, just playing on.
Faster now. I have done this in practice a million times but never once with someone watching. Is everything this painful? But the music isn't. Nor is knowing she's up there in the window. But knowing she can hear me is.
The tune isn't merry it isn't sad, it isn't anything but possibly angry, it's so fast my fingers fly to keep up, going to place well before I even think of it. How I play when I'm alone. When I want so badly to feel nothing at all so I let the music feel it for me.
I feel tears slowly dripping down my cheeks and I don't know why. Except that I feel oddly free. Like floating in the water at Bath. Like knowing I could drown so so easily but refusing to be afraid.
She's still looking down at me.
I slow the melody, rapidly, into a love song. It's old. Familiar. Quiet and mournful, there's words to go with it I don't know them. But it's a song for young lovers. Far more pleasant. I've played it before of course always on my own.
Tears are pouring down my face. But my hands aren't trembling. The song is drifting slowly around us as the echoes carry the tune up the castle walls and to her, leaning in the window. I never liked this song before, not till I was looking at her as my fingers found the notes. I don't remember the last time I wept like this. Probably in the water. It's like screaming. It won't make anything better. But I feel better.
This is all I am. The best I can do for her. I end the song, slowly, lowering my fiddle to my side. My fingers are raw and red. A few might be bleeding. I raise my tear filled eyes upward to her. She's still looking out at me. I hold up my fiddle, taking a breath to stop the tears, making eye contact even through the dark.
Then I turn around and walk back inside. She doesn't call to me. Somehow she knows that's all I was, and all I have to give.