The Fiddler (Hand in Hand Chronicles)

Chapter 5 - "crooked eclipses against his glory fight"

"I'm going on the Scottish campaign," I say, staring down at my messages, over an early supper. I take meals with Maud now. With some regularity. She doesn't try to talk to me so it's all right.
"Oh that's nice? You don't like going places?" Maud frowns.
"No, but people could die," I say.
"Well people will die if it's a campaign," she reasons.
"The people I want to die that is," I say, folding up the messages, "That means—oh god you're staying here?"
"Yes? I don't go to war with you," she says, gently.
"Yes, but I don't leave you places without me," I say, my heart starting to pound.
"I think I'll survive, you're like a cat honestly, I'll barley know you're gone. Yes, I think I'll be fine," she says.
"No, no—I mean yes clearly you'll be fine after we do a few short little things that need doing," I say, head in my hands, "Ah—how to put this. I'm not going to put it any way. We'll just do this it'll be grand. And if we're lucky I'll die and never have to speak or think or feel anything again."
"I don't think bedding you would fix you but you should know I'm willing to try."
"What?"
"What?"
"Did I just say all that out loud?" I breath.
"About hoping you die so you don't feel human emotion that you did," Maud says, nodding.
"God in heaven," I put my head back in my hands.
"Is that what you do?" She asks slowly, "You —try not to feel anything?"
"Correct it's all too painful I found that out years ago. I keep all my emotions and feelings and fears locked up inside my chest and they shan't come out ever and I'll never be hurt by anything and then eventually hopefully soon I'll die and make you a wealthy widow why do you ask?" I ask, spinning a hand to indicate how irrelevant this is all things considered.
"Where should I start? You're not dying? Also please don't do that," she sighs.
"I try not to with you," I say, running a finger on the callouses in my hands, "A bit. When I can manage it. Twice. I've tried twice."
"Did you give up and leave my bedroom the first time—?"
"Yes."
"Okay wanted to make sure I was following," she says.
"I want to be better," I say, "I don't—know how this is easier you see I don't—that's it really."
"We're going to—work on that together, then. And for now. We're going to focus on the you dying bit. Don't. Henry. Look at me. Don't," she says, pointing a finger at me.
"Fine," I say, even though I wouldn't care. "All right now. We're going to do my things to have you ready while I'm gone."
"Sure, whatever makes you happy."
"I'm never happy—what?" I ask, I'm already at the door. She's still at the table. "Aren't you coming?"
"We're—doing this now. Sure, why not, I wasn't going to sleep tonight."
"Nor was I. I was going to play chess," I say.
"Is that what you do silently in your room?"
"Yes?"
"With whom?"
"Me," I pat my chest.
"Walked right into that one. All right yes what are we doing—oh god—," I took a sword off the wall and put it in her hands.
"If you don't already know you're going to learn how to use this. And we're going to go over some updates to our current defense that you'll maintain while I'm gone don't worry I have all of it written down," I say, leading her down the hall, "These doors, can be closed in the event of attack they should hold for a couple of hours while you escape down the side stair and hide in the cellar we are going there now—,"
"Do you—think we're going to be attacked while you're away?" Maud asks.
"Probably not physically," I say as comfortingly as humanly possible, "But I could die in which case legally Thomas would be your next relative and so we need to be ready for you to flee into the Welsh countryside and adapt to a new life as you see fit. Now you've already memorized the list of people that you may admit to the keep while I'm gone—,"
"That list has one person on it not including your mother," Maud sighs.
"It has two people on it."
"Our lord and savior Jesus Christ is NOT going to show up at the front door, Henry," Maud says.
"We don't really know that I think that's sort of his thing isn't it? Anyway glad you remember anyone else can leave things at the gate we'll bring them in, my men have strict instructions. I realize you may want to leave so I'm going to show you my disguises wardrobe you can use wherever you like," I explain, as we reach the cellar, "Enough food down here you can survive for three months that's longer than Thomas' attention span and he hasn't got a very long attention span so you ought to be fine."
"Is there—can I—why are we discussing me living in the cellar eating old leeks as a possible reality?" Maud asks, holding her hands oddly.
"Because it makes me feel better," I say.
"Good reason all right, proceed," she says.
I don't know if she expected me to keep talking all night but that's what I do.
Come morning I present her with a series of plans, drafts, my will granting her my estates should we have no child.
She stares at me.
"Yeah, I know, it looked it better to put 'if there's no child'," I tap the paper.
"I'm fine with a child," she says, cocking her head, "I'd like a baby."
"That's pleasant if you find one let me know—oh of ours."
She nods, "It's your will."
"That's for completeness," I inform her, "We're both lucky I'm telling you all this. I'm not even happy about it."
"Okay," she nods, "Sorry go on?"
"Safe conduct letters that's the king's signature go carefully there—to get you to France or Wales or I guess some people want to go to Scotland—,"
"The king signed these?" She frowns.
"Did I say that? Go carefully about those, emergencies."
"How much longer do these potential siege, attack, kidnapping, briefings go on?"
"Why?" I ask, hands on hips.
"I need wine if it's longer than—let's go with the next hour," she says.
"Someone bring my wife wine. A decanter, of it, full," I wave a hand.
"Oh god."
"Tomorrow we're going over trails that lead away from the manor."
"Oh that'll be fun, we never go riding."
I'm not fun. Maud should know that by now.
The next day we are walking through the woods, carrying weapons and bags.
"All right in the interest of preparation I really think I should know why we're doing all this? Like seriously what—cause do you have to think that we're going to be under siege if I'm under siege I think I should know?" Maud asks, following me, but panting a bit. I did give her a rather heavy bag.
"I can't—," I sigh, staring upwards, leaning back to achieve this. The thing is of course I don't know we'll be attacked and we likely won't. "It's a—preservation thing. If nothing can —begin, to touch me then—," I spin my hand.
She stops, because I did.
"Usually anything I care about has to be a secret. I can't—love anything or it'll be taken away. If I do it's—it's a weakness. So I have to protect and hide—anything. Like I told you, I'm learning to be—better. With you. But I can't have—everyone knows I have a wife. They know I couldn't—keep you a secret. I can't I—they know you're here. They'll presume I care about you. So I have to keep you as locked up as I can so they don't—the world tears things apart. You can't, no one can love anything. Ever, or it'll be taken away and destroyed and—it's too painful you see. I wasn't going to care at all. But. It hurts," I look up, tears are filling my eyes.
Maud steps forward, slowly.
"It hurts you see. It's too painful I didn't want it," I say.
"Do you feel happiness though?" She asks.
I shake my head no.
"Except with your music, or playing chess, and whatever else you do alone where no one can harm you?" She asks, hands gently on my arms.
"There's happiness with you. It terrifies me," I say, quietly, "I can't do that."
"I'm not going to be—one of the people—that hurt you. That's not me. I want to be happy too," she says, "I liked listening to you play that night beneath my window. I like when you go quiet and stare off when other people are talking and you're clearly not hearing a word they say. And I think I like spending my life with you."
I say nothing, brushing the tears from my cheeks. I don't know why I can weep around her.
"Can you try to let me in a bit more? With—whatever you can tell me?" She asks, putting her hand through my hair.
I want it to be true. I want to believe it so badly.
"I'm going to be here, waiting, when you get back," she says, and then she hugs me quickly, little head on my shoulder, "All right?"
I don't believe her.
She's probably waiting to leave me it's not worth opening up. It's not worth believing in people. I will always be disappointed. I will always be hurt.
I join the army mustering outside of London, with my few men. I don't have that many to bring it's primarily myself. Richmond is flitting about and somehow got his men combined with mine. Probably so he can make sarcastic remarks under his breath to me because he requires constant attention.
"I'm with you?" I say, by way of greeting.
"Yes my boy I require constant attention. Also I need someone to make clever sarcastic remarks to."
Well good to know I know him.
Thomas is someplace else I don't even go and see him. I'm still thinking of my conversation with Maud. And twitching, as we set out. I'm in no humor to talk which is fairly constant with me. However.
"Henry—Henry this is Gaveston. He primarily belongs to Edward but Edward is with the king so this is his new home, nobody avoids your brother like you so I thought he'd be safe," Richmond says, just guiding the angry French child, all right he's probably only a few years my junior, over to join us. The same dumb angry French child from the feast. Edward kept him.
"You—you're one of the Lancasters?" Gaveston points at me. Jesus he's dumb. I told him that.
I clap my hands, "You win the prize, how would you like your head displayed? I hear Tower Gate's lovely this time of year."
"Why are all of you like this?" Gaveston sighs.
"It's called being clever. I'm ill company constantly," I say.
"I noticed," Gaveston says.
"That's nice you're friends," Richmond says.
We aren't friends, but I don't mind the French boy. He's not clever enough to be a threat. And Edward comes about to claim him as is necessary. Gaveston is quite the soldier, and I find will talk happily about jousting, the only thing he knows about, for hours.
"We're avoiding speaking to an angry evil version of this one, if he comes up you've taken a vow of silence," Richmond explains the first night we make camp.
"I'm not talking to any of you people," Gaveston says.