The Fiddler (Hand in Hand Chronicles)

Chapter 8 - "my bounty is as boundless as the sea"

Gaveston is sent to Ireland, with his assorted women, to be Lord of Ireland. A post, nobody actually wants. Edward is going to meet with us barons again come fall. Richmond and I hope he will be clever enough to leave Gaveston where he is for the present, but we hold out little hope. Thomas is now entirely bored of protecting Edward. Now, he feels, Edward is in his pocket, and he can do as he likes and rule England through him.
I care very little. I tried to help Edward and was resisted. I've nothing against him or Gaveston but I can't save him from the wolves and I certainly won't resist Thomas on principle, considering it would do no good.
I appraise Maud of all of it at length. We've taken to sitting before the fire in the evenings, her reading or sewing, me playing chess with myself as I like. The children will occasionally join us, usually Blanche who will drop off in one of our laps.
"I told Edward if he loved Gaveston he'll let him go. The man is fine in Ireland," I say, my daughter asleep on my shoulder, playing chess one handed and balancing the sleeping girl with the other. She's clutching her pink bunny, soft red curls fluffy and hanging in her face.
"It makes most sense. I know Edward wants to fight for him," Maud says.
"He's being a fool," I say, "You can't play for a emotion."
"It was good you tried to help him. And Gaveston knows," she says.
"He's a fool as well. And even if he's not. If Edward, like an idiot, recalls him from Ireland?" I say, gesturing with the piece I'm moving.
"He should stay, his family's safe there," she says.
"How can he refuse? That's his king. Just like me going to Parliament, which I don't want to do by the way. My king calls me I must go, most men would say spiritually I'm saying legally I'm a criminal if I don't. If Edward says come he's got to," I shake my head.
"If I didn't want you in my bed I couldn't refuse you're my husband," she points out.
"Which is why this one isn't marrying," I say, dryly, "You know my point."
"And mine. Edward wouldn't do that to him," she says.
"Maybe not in his head. Plenty of men go to their wives beds drunk, and she wonders quietly if she says no what will happen? Easier to give in than get a terrible answer," I say, "Say we weren't wanting a child because you'd had a bad birth whatever. I come to your bed drunk. What would you do? Would you turn me away when you haven't before and you know I'd feel guilty in the morning knowing you'd had to turn me away? Or would you let me in because you care more for my feelings and later guilt than your own life?"
"You know the answer," she says.
"It's not lack of love. It's misplaced, that's the devil of it," I say.
"I would endanger myself—yes for your feelings as it were," she says, "Not that you get drunk or try to come to my room—,"
"No but for analogy," I say. Our liaisons are more of the parlor variety we go to her room to talk. I'll kiss her of my own accord but it's her to who tugs me to her room.
"But for analogy. I would not risk our daughter's life for your pride or whatever you wouldn't want me to," she says.
"Right because you're practical because you're a woman, and a mother. We men tend to be more emotional, and arrogant. We think we can slay all the dragons and save the day by brute force if we must," I say, "You know you have to use your wiles you always have. We have the illusion of power. It's how we die. Gaveston will believe he can keep his girls safe by force of will of course he will he's just a man. In my heart I think the same thing I can protect this baby all her life, logically I know one day I'll die and she'll be without me so I must set her up to survive, same for you you'll likely outlive me."
"I'm a year younger than you," she says, shaking her head, "We die together."
"In bed, agreed," I smile.
She does too, "Speaking of you bringing that one to my room the kissing me in hall and scandalizing the staff?"
"Yes more than likely I'm about done," I say.
"Are you playing backward?" She asks.
"Yes, endings are always sad of late," I say, setting the last pawn in place.
Edward calls us again in August, the Barons. Now he's all smiles and charm, talking of war in Scotland. It's incredibly obvious he'll agree to most anything so long as we vote to let Gaveston return. Richmond assures me that he's been attempting to secure it.
"Did you tell the idiot not to push— to remain while we work on the local idiot?" I ask.
"That I did," Richmond says.
I don't believe Edward's plans. Thomas is busy scheming with the other Earls and Barons, namely Warwick. I'm an Earl but I'm considered part of Lancaster. Thomas assumes I'll stay with him. He thinks he's trained me well.
In anticipation of more parliaments I move my family to Grosmont before the end of the year. It's closer proximity to London, and quite easy to defend should war break out. It's also farther from Thomas who rules the north. He's no longer even pretending to get on with Edward.
Spring comes again. Gaveston is doing well enough in Ireland, the locals, free of my brother's poison, like him. That irks Thomas to no end. Edward is still making promises he shan't keep. So situation normal so far as politics go.  Edward calls parliament again. Richmond and I warn him the Earls are scheming behind his back with Thomas as leader.
"This is our last meeting. Thomas will end me if I go against him. I'm telling you to keep the status quo," I say.
"He's right. You've got their trust by half they can't do anything if you don't break he rules," Richmond says.
"They are my rules, I am king," Edward says, coolly.
I shake my head. I have done what I can. Parliament is pleasant but poisonous. Hours of discussion of taxation, and a war with Scotland that won't happen, along with Edward agreeing to most anything so long as we'll vote for Gaveston to return.
"Does he not see they all want Gaveston to return so they can ruin them both?" I breath, face in my hands.
"We told him as much. Well I told him explicitly. But no. He does not," Richmond says.
Edward has already written to the Pope confirming what I could have told him was true, there's no legal or relgious basis to exile a man we all generously assume is a sodomite, but has committed exactly no crimes other than being good looking and a bit of an idiot. Not actual crimes that is.
I return home. Edward has made his bed he can lie in it. I warned him about Thomas. Richmond did too. We embrace quickly and depart, Thomas is counting on me for nothing but my silence. I'm well with that.
Back at Grosmont my now near five year old Blanche is delighted with my return. I've been gone too often of late.  And I gain more reasons to abandon any charity case in aiding the King of England.
Maud draws me to her room on the night of my return, this time though as I kiss her she guides my hand to her belly.
"What—really?" I ask, my fingers groping through the thick fabric.
"I've not bled since you left me last," she says, hand still over mine, "I'm barely showing."
"What just past a month or so?" I ask, trying to recall. We tend to kiss and be stupid after the children are asleep, usually when one or the other has flirted the other out of their hobbies. Which is to say not terribly often but I remember something along those lines but a few weeks before I left.
"Six weeks, just, I haven't told anyone," she smiles, blushing a little.
"Come here, eh, you happy?" I ask.
"Of course I'm happy! Could use another little girl, maybe it'll even look like me," she says, slyly.
"I live to serve," I say, kissing her lips.
She's right of course it's nearly impossible to tell. She's a bit thicker than she was but unlike the  first one the difference isn't immediately obvious. And it remains so past the start of summer, with Maud just gradually putting on a bit of weight and looking little more than plump. She feels fine beyond hungry which is all that matters. We do sit down and tell Blanche she's likely getting a sibling. We expect this to go badly and have presents prepared. This does not go badly she's throughly excited to have a little sibling.
"Maybe it'll be a boy who won't beat me up at swords," Tommy says.
"I want another sister," Blanche says, bouncing.
"Sister or brother it'll be a baby and not much fun," Maud says.
"And you'll take care of each other. That's what we do in this family eh?" I ask.
"Yes papa, of course," Blanche beams.
By the height of summer Gaveston has returned to England. Aimee writes to Maud to tell her and therefore me that they're back, and anticipate the Earl's reaction to be poor. Maud writes back that that is entirely accurate.
I am not attending anything, Thomas and Edward both invite me I find excuses. I've given my advice and I'm through taking sides. I have a pregnant wife and a five year old both of whom need me here, and alive. It's not until fall that Maud is actually showing, and even then she's smaller than with Blanche. We both quietly fear for the baby's health.
"It's moving plenty," Maud says, putting my hand to her little belly. The cold winds started blowing so naturally I wound up in her bed, an arm around her.
"It feels small, our dates are off what? A fortnight at best?" I ask.
"Something like that," she says, "It's supposed to come in three months," she says.
"You feel fine though?" I ask. I want the child obviously but her health concerns me more.
"Yes, I feel fine. Good actually, like before," she says, head on my shoulder. I stroke her hair gently from her face.
"That's what matters," I say, kissing her forehead.
I have another nursery prepared. Separate. Each child has its own which is completely unusual, and Maud does not even question it. The children are across the hall from us., it's a small keep and I like them close. I do my usual vigilant selection of nurses and wetnurses. And we wait. The baby shows no signs of coming early or growing. Maud remains a tiny thing, past winter robes she barely looks pregnant. 
I get messages about the state of politics I primarily read and throw them in the fire. The only people I tell about the new baby are Richmond, in that he's on his own I'll soon have another infant in the house another reason not to be involved, and Gaveston's sister Aimee. Richmond's home to Brittany for the holiday, and tells me he doesn't begrudge me it, as congratulations are in order, and my family needs me, besides it does no apparent good. Aimee I don't tell personally, Maud writes to her and tells her she's with child, if Aimee needs something still write I'll get the note, or better use the baby as an excuse to come it's actually true. Aimee is kind she thanks us and says that Gaveston is trying to reason with Edward to let him go back to Ireland or something.  I doubt if it will work.
Maud goes into confinement regrettably just before the winter holidays so I expect to console the children. It turns out they think the baby is their new year's present and are fine. I'm not fine. I think I am sometimes fine but. Not anymore. I wake one morning to the news that Maud is in labor. And it turns out I react as badly as I did the first time but now there's a five year old and ten year old involved.
"Mum will be all right," Blanche says, taking my hand.
"Of course she will, I'm going to pray," I'm aware I'm visibly sweating.
"Well we'll be waiting a bit. Why don't you teach us how to play chess? We learned in lessons, but Lady Maud said you were good," Tommy asks, hopefully, pointing to one of the wooden chess sets he's laid out.
"Did my wife put you up to this?" I ask, hand over my face.
"She said it might take your mind off of it. So. Yes," Tommy winces.
"She underestimates my ability to worry. Go ahead, pick a side," I say.
"Ah—black," he says.
"Go on, you move my pieces," I say to Blanche. She hurries over the board. This way I can keep pacing and sweating and making various deals with god.
And I do, completely effectively. I can worry and mind the children at the same time. I'm a parent. I can completely lose my mind and occupy these kids.
"I'm done, I think," Tommy says.
"You move the pawn?" I ask.
"Yes..." slowly, "To ah—,"
"You moved the black pawn a square ahead prepared to take my knight. Blanche move my bishop on your right hand side of the board diagonally two spaces taking his consort. That's checkmate, I should think," I say, staring out the windows, hands clasped.
Furtive whispering.
"Yes that's checkmate we won again papa!" Blanche chirps.
"Good job set up the board again, take another one of my pieces away surprise me," I say.
"Take away his other castle I'll pay you," Tommy breaths, "I'm red this time."
"Okay!" Blanche says, she's having fun, "Now, you've got, one bishop, one, consort one knight one castle. And we're black."
"Great, go ahead Tommy did you just move your black pawn from before the consort one space?" I ask.
"No, I moved the other one—the one in front of the bishop," Tommy says.
I shrug.
"Do you want our pawn forward papa? Like before?" Blanche asks.
"The one before the king one step," I say.
Tommy clearly considers, "Okay, done."
"What'd you move? Not the pawn two spaces in front of the knight?" I ask.
"Yes? How do you always know?" Tommy asks.
"What do I move?" Blanche asks.
"Consort diagonally to stand next to his pawn. That's checkmate," I say.
"What?" Tommy asks, "Oh—can I curse?"
"You can always curse in chess, but only once."
"Fuck me."
"You made that count," I come over to pat Blanche's head, "Good job. Tommy, tell me why'd you move those pawns?"
"Because moving any of the others hadn't worked," he sighs.
"Don't change up a good method. Your moves are fine mine are better, focus on what I'm doing not what you're doing when you're not doing anything wrong. I'm the aggressor, I'm the one to outsmart," I say.
"You don't have half your pieces," he says.
"Because I can see your mistakes before you do I don't need them," I say.
"Papa have you been crying over there?" Blanche asks, little face tight with concern.
"A bit," I say, checking her hair ribbons which were coming loose. The nurses don't do it as well as her mother.
"Would you like to hold my bunny?" She asks, holding out her pink velvet bunny.
"I would like to hold you and your bunny," I say, scooping her up in my arms, "The day you were born I was worse I didn't have either of my girls."
Tommy smiles.
"Day we got you my wife sent me back to get you within perhaps two minutes of me telling her we were responsible for you," I say winking at Tommy. He beams.
A midwife comes to tell us mother and child are well, and resting. That's said like I'm not going to immediately go up and I am.
Maud is once again tucked in bed, she's beaming though, holding the baby expertly as she nurses it. I come over and kiss her forehead, softly weeping.
"We're fine. Your girls are tough," she smiles.
"Another girl?" I laugh.
"Yes you gave me another beautiful girl," she says, smiling. Her face is sweaty and blotchy, but glowing.
"She's tiny," I say, looking down at our sleeping child. She's half the size our Blanche was I swear.
"You been okay? Are the children all right?" She asks.
"Yeah they've been playing," I say, "You want me to bring them up to meet their sister?"
"Yes do, you hold her a minute while I talk to them," she says, as the baby finishes nursing.
I usher the children up while nurses glare at me. I don't think this is done. I don't care. Blanche is beaming and bouncing. Tommy is somber. They rush in the moment I open the door. I sweep over to take the baby while they both hug her.
"Oh my angels, did you take good care of your papa for me?" Maud asks, kissing their foreheads.
"Yes, I did; he was crying," Blanche says.
"He beat me at chess two hundred and fourteen times and that's cause the baby came quickly," Tommy says, very nicely.
"So that's a yes thank you," Maud says.
I'm meanwhile looking down at my new daughter. She is terribly little, but looks healthy. Breathing fine, and not at all disturbed by my arms.
"Hello, little love," I say, gently putting a thumb near her arm. The baby stretches a bit, opening foggy grey eyes to study me with apparent concern. I smile. She's all right. And I'll keep her safe.
This one we name Maud. Maud asks if there are other women in my family to name it after and I stare at her for a long a time and she says it was worth asking. So it's her namesake. M, which becomes Emmy, is all any of us call her. Nothing wrong with the little thing's lungs, she cries heartily and nurses fine. She's just a small thing nothing wrong with that.
I'm summoned to a Parliament in February, apparently since I'm "Not the one who gave birth" a newborn precious little girl is "No excuse not to show up" and "that's very specific because Jesus Christ Henry, they are fine without you".
I go, after kissing my wife goodbye mostly all night that's a blur, and bidding farewell to each of the children twice, specifically the new baby, our Emmy, who I fear won't know me when I return.
"It's a few weeks. She'll know your voice, we're fine," Maud says, kissing me again, "Now go so you can return."
"You know I shall," I say, kissing her again.
I get halfway to London before riders intercept me.
"Well. You left your manor. Did you throw a boy this time?" Thomas asks.
"Isn't Parliament that way?" I point at London.
"Boy? Girl? Oh it's another girl isn't?" He laughs. Joke is on him I adore my little girls.
"Yes, it's another girl, and so whatever, I'd tell if you it was a boy," I would not. "Now isn't Parliament that way? Why are you this way?"
"We are not going to Parliament. Not so long as Gaveston is there," he says.
"Why? You like hating him? Isn't that easier to do locally?" I ask.
"None of us are going because it isn't safe," he says.
"Safe from whom? You're always going to be there—?" I want to say that if I'm finding this reasoning a bit funny Gaveston will find hilarious.
"You're very funny brother. Go home. We're not going."
He doesn't have to tell me twice. I return within a day, flying directly back and coming in in the middle of the night when people aren't to be admitted. It's raining.
Maud actually comes out to the ramparts to look.
I raise a hand, grinning.
They drop the gates and she meets me in the courtyard.
"You shouldn't be out in the rain," I laugh.
"I will not melt what are you doing home?" She asks.
"For foolishness reasons they aren't going, the barons aren't, so I'm home," I say, kissing her lips.
"Come in," she laughs, letting me hold her all the same.
"One more," I say, kissing her again.
"I'll give you all you like in my room," she laughs.
She keeps that promise, kissing me as we undo our wet clothes.
"That baby will be crying in a couple of hours," I say. She usually goes to at least check. I've gotten her paranoid about how they hold the little ones.
"For once my bed doesn't have a child in it let's enjoy it while it lasts, and anyway I thought I'd not have you for a while," she says. Of course I've not lain with her since the baby was born.
"You shall not have me hereafter he'll summon another Parliament," I say, slowly stripping our wet clothes as I move to the bed. I lie back to take her into my arms. "We getting too old for the floor, sofa, and back meadow foolishness?"
"I will not be too old for even Baths foolishness if you're involved," she says, kissing me, "But yes this is more comfortable."
"Hm, agreed," I say, taking her into my arms. She's softer now since bearing my children, I kiss ever line on her belly and breasts. I didn't have her like this so close to Blanche, and enjoy the smell of the baby on her skin, milk, maybe baby sick. She's got more hair on the line down her belly, and her legs are rough against my own as we tangle up in the blankets, I pull a fur over us both as we shiver, chilled as we are from the rainshower. Her hair is hanging in wet ropes around both of our heads and we laugh as it gets stuck to my face.
The baby starts crying perhaps ten minutes after we've actually fallen asleep. We probably embarrass the nurses how clearly fresh from the others arms we are as we show up to the nursery to ensure the baby's well. Emmy cries more than Blanche did, she's so tiny she needs to be fed every couple of hours, her cries waking everyone on the hall four or five times a night.
That's not even close to as annoying as the next Parliament.
"My infant waking us all up every hour is more pleasurable than this," I breath.
"Is it?" Richmond asks, "Is the child well?"
"She's fine, just very tiny so little stomach that gets hungry," I say.
"Oh right then. No I can imagine that's better. The child doesn't know better."
"The child smiled at me the other week."
Parliament is torture. The earls and barons, which by association includes me, want Edward to let a group of 'Ordainers' basically run England, oh and of course Gaveston has to go. The man has still done nothing but return on technically orders of his king, but they don't care about that. He's something that can be taken from Edward. So they shall do it.
Thomas is of course the head of those asking for the Ordianers. I quietly agree. I always did.
I feel some guilt for it now.
"Let me be your counsel for a moment. Don't. It does not good," Richmond holds my arm.
"I know it's wrong, I don't care about the Ordainers but it's wrong to let them use Gaveston as their chew toy," I say.
"If your comrade in arms set himself on fire, would you lighting yourself ablaze help?" Richmond asks.
"No," I sigh.
"Okay then. You have your answer. Going and standing by him does him no good he's going to lose. Why lose with him when here we can negotiate his ransom?" He asks.
"I needed that," I say, holding his arm, "I just—,"
"I know. You know he's worth saving. This is how we save him. You don't save something by helping it destroy itself. You save it by picking up the pieces, and softening the blow," he says.
"I always say yes. I always go along and do as he says—always," my voice breaks.
"That's because you stay alive, Henry. It's not right. It's not fair. The time will come when Thomas will build his own gallows. That day is not today. He has all the power, Edward none. You know how to win. You know how to win at a handicap. If I have a knight, a bishop, a consort and a king and you two knights and king can you win?" He asks.
I run through a couple of scenarios in my head, "Yes."
"Do you do it by advancing?"
"No, you let him move in and make a mistake," I sigh, "It's hard."
"I know. To be fair, Edward could play this better," he says.
"We're still helping him, even though he's playing badly," I say.
"Correct. But if your child is near an adder do you grab the snake yourself?" He asks.
"No," I say, shuddering at the thought.
"No you'd be poisoned. You don't do that. You calmly, walk over, and wait for the right moment to bear the child to safety. You know exactly how to win this. You just don't like it," he says.
"You're right. I don't. I've spent my whole life playing games," I say, "I'm sick of them."
"But you know how. And our cousin needs us," he sighs, "But if your brother makes another veiled reference to sodomy I'm going to kiss you for a very long time where he can see it."
"Oh please do? It might even stop him from coming to my house he nearly did the other day," I sigh.
He does kiss me about an hour later two steps from Thomas in the hall. Thomas cries out in gutteral rage but he can't kill us because Edward is there laughing. Edward knows we are both living with other people, he knows full well it's a joke, and he laughs so hard he has to lean against the wall tears streaming down his face.
My wife thinks it's as funny as the king of England did. Thankfully I guess. No, I knew she'd think it was funny she's met Richmond and his priest of the month or whatever he has going on back in Brittany and occasionally for some reason talks to my wife about.
"He kissed you fully on the mouth dipping you, in the middle of the hall in front of your bloody brother?" Maud laughs, Emmy cradled in her arms. The baby doesn't sleep unless someone is holding it or her indulgent papa is playing the fiddle.
"Yes," I laugh, lying before the fire, "He warned me first obviously. I said to go for it it might keep Thomas away from the house."
"Thomas is the one who told all of court you were a sodomite," she says.
"Correct, clearly he didn't think it was true," I say, laughing, "God he couldn't do anything after he started those rumors. He blamed Richmond and so did I. Richmond's fine with that."
"I'm going to have to tease him about stealing my lord," she says.
"I beg of you to not—or do—but I guarantee you he'll think it's funny and he probably doesn't need that sort of encouragement," I say, sighing, "Ah, that was the only amusing thing that happened though. Now Edward's pretending to go along with it he never will, and he's off to Scotland with Gaveston in tow pretending to fight Robert the Bruce."
"How do you pretend to fight Robert the Bruce?"
"You go to Scotland and are too intensely nice and also not warfare like that he as a man of honor doesn't see it as a contest and doesn't bother to fight you as you'll probably go home," I say.
"That would do it, does Edward know he's doing that?" She asks.
"Actually I think yes. We're not talking. I have to remain with the Barons, this way I can at least try to moderate and maybe Richmond and I can get Gaveston out of it. Or warn him in advance," I say, "That's it I'm not involved Thomas doesn't really want my input, and Edward likely won't leave the north for another year or until the so called 'Ordainers' get him down."
"Was Richmond a good kisser?" She asks.
I look over at her, "He's not YOU."
"I'm teasing you here," she says, laughing, "You'd do the same to me."
"He was brilliant I lost sense of self for a minute it was ridiculous I think his tongue was on my teeth at one point," I say.
She laughs.
"He did not have prove he's that good the man is absurd, I feel sorry for the poor clergy of Brittany," I scoff, "Obviously I don't want to be kissing him not my style, but form wise, yeah."
"What is your style?" She asks.
"Brown eyed girls," I say, slowly lifting her skirt to kiss her leg. Coarse dark hairs, on milky pale skin. I kiss my way up to her knee.
"Go on, who was your first romance?" she asks, frowning.
I stare at her, head resting on her knee, "Was I—not awkward enough on our wedding night? Two babies later I know it sounds weird but remember the shades of red I turned? Hmm?"
"I know that, I'm saying did you ever have some crush or other?" She asks, "I'm not being jealous I'm genuinely curious now."
"No I know I'm poor at talking about things," I say.
"I fancied a couple of the boys who worked at our houses, nice tough squires. You're young it's what you do. I never got to talk to them or anything, so," she says.
"Oh. Just watched from the window like the Lady of Shallot?" I ask, starting to hum the song.
"Stop it. We're talking about you," she laughs.
"No you know me I don't leave my room. Thomas did try to take us to a brothel once, me and Edward," I say.
"Oh dear," she winces, well aware anything to do with Thomas is poor.
"Yes, no this is fine it's not a bad story. Like most of my childhood. No I thought I'd go through with it. Then I got there and there were other people and I wanted to go home," I say.
"What did you do?" She asks.
"I bolted. As soon as Thomas had gone up I went back outside, I screamed in the street," I say, "I left Edward in there he was making friends."
'"What—seriously?' She laughs.
"Yes of course. Made about twelve friends he can talk to anyone," I scoff, "Anyway. I went out into the street and was being my usual very emotionally adjusted self. Some welsh squire boy asked if I was all right I lied. Anyway he'd not been allowed in and said he fancied getting kissed on his birthday so I kissed him. Wasn't bad at all."
"Aw that's sweet," she says.
"See? I don't only have bad stories," I say.
"Tell that one to our daughters sometime," she laughs, "But you have to let me watch."
"Yeah got to have fun with them," I say, looking at the baby sleeping her arms, "You want me to play for you?"
"You don't have to. I know you're tired," she says.
"You're tired, I'll play you'll be out in ten minutes and I'll carry you to bed," I say, standing to get my fiddle.
She's out in three minutes. I carry the baby to sleep, then her. Then I keep playing in the moonlit parlor.
Summer comes. The Ordainers are I guess working on ordinances. Richmond and I attend every so often. We're not properly involved but we can spy and give Edward intelligence he's not going to use.  Gaveston actually writes to me personally, he tells me that his wife, Maggie, my cousin is having his child. He says little more but I know damn well it's a plea. I answer with our brief congratulations and emphasize my love for my own cousin. Yes I'll help her even if I can't help him.
My Maud falls ill at the end of spring. She can't keep food down well, and she's weak. Naturally I panic I'm great at that by now. She herself is concerned at her rapidly declining health, when she can't stomach half our meals. Out of caution she quits nursing Emmy, and while we await surgeons I put her on bedrest.
And that is how I pay six surgeons to tell me my wife is pregnant. In our defense, we have no excuse actually.
"She just gave birth," I say, holding Maud's hand.
"I'm not this sick, I'm fine pregnant," Maud argues.
A midwife probes her belly, "You're well four months gone."
Maud and I stare at each other clearly attempting to recall when we last lay together.  I can't remember four months back, we've been together more recently its fine weather to go for a walk late at night and get lost under the stars. I decide to deflect.
"We didn't conceive for nearly five years after our first daughter," I say, defensively, "How could she have another this quickly?"
"Luck, you're just pregnant," the midwife tells her.
We're mostly offended it didn't occur to us at all and that someone had to tell us. We knew first with the others.
"Will she be all right having one this quickly?" I ask, protectively.
Multiple people stare at me like I shouldn't have lain with her.  In my defense it took five years after the first one I really did not think it would lead to a child. In my condemnation the first one was the consequence of the first time we were together so possibly we should have guessed this.
This is a swollen knot beneath the fat of her belly, which within weeks of calling the surgeons is bulging out. We quit denying the probability of it and ashamed attempt to guess when the child will come.
"I don't care," I say, face in her now once again swollen gut.
"You're saying that because you don't know and you won't admit it," Maud says.
"Of course I am," I say, kissing her poor sagging flesh. The baby was hidden beneath the weight from the previous pregnancy but no longer, now it's a swollen pot belly, with angry red lines on her skin.
"I haven't bled since before I was carrying Emmy," she says, stroking my hair, "But it took a while after Blanche too—so I didn't know, then I was ill."
"Oh don't weep. It doesn't matter," I say, crawling up the bed.
"It's just the baby," she says, head on my shoulder, letting me hold her, "I just like knowing."
"Well it's not—oh I never went to that Parliament we were pretty stupid around then," I say, "That would do it, end of January? February? Can you have another that quickly?"
"Apparently, that makes it five months, if it was January, four if it was that night you came home," she says.
We both look at her chubby belly. She wasn't this big full term with Emmy.
"We'll have another pretty redhaired girl come Christmas, all will be well," I say, tucking her hair from her face, "Eh? You rest and feel better."
"Please don't leave? I want you here when it comes, I'm weak this time," she says.
She's likely weak because she just had a baby, but I don't say that. I feel a flash of guilt, because of course it's my child straining her like this.
"I won't, I'll be here," I say, kissing her temple.
Maud rests and gets a bit better. The baby continues to grow at a nearly alarming rate, by the time summer comes she's big and waddling cradling her belly, with another good three months left to go. Blanche and Tommy are enthused and mostly immune to the news. We just had a baby having another is no shock to them.
And little Emmy is growing and thriving, with a dusting of red hair and bright blue eyes. She's now nearly sleeping through the night and still eating away.
Maud still can't stand some foods, but staples like ale and bread and red meat are fine, and while she grows heavier it's all going towards the baby. We pretend that Blanche was this big, until her dresses have to be refitted to accommodate her belly, the ones from Blanche, let alone Emmy won't do. That also means it likely won't be such an easy birth. We both know it.
And we were off. Fall comes, and September comes and goes blissfully. Maud just grows bigger, not yet full term even if her belly's getting hard and round. It's no longer a hefty pot belly but so wide she can't get her own arms around it. I'm tall I can still take her in my arms. We grimly assure the midwives we don't know when it's due just it had better come soon.
October comes, Maud goes into confinement which is meaningless. She's weak with carrying it and needs help standing and sometimes rolling over in bed it's so huge. The midwives assure us it isn't two but the thought crosses our minds.
We remember this means we conceived in Lent. We laugh about this.
"Did we know that at the time?" She asks.
"No. I did not definitely," I scoff, my hand on the top of her belly. The baby kicks. "Someone's ready to be born."
"Someone had better be. Born under the scorpion, we should be prepared this one will be wild," she says.
"Already is, sneaky thing, no that was our fault," I kiss her belly. It didn't ask to be conceived.
"I love you so much but I want at least year off," Maud sighs, rubbing her stretched skin.
"Yeah let's try for two eh?" I ask.
The labor starts in the late evening, after we've finished supper. The other children are in bed. Maud grips my arm.
"Stay with me?" She whispers.
That's all she has to say. I help her to her room, and let her grip my arms. The midwives come and try to tell me to go.
"I want him," Maud breaths.
"I stay," I snarl, at the same time.
She winces in pain, sweat rolling down her face. Her hands dig into my arms. I'm praying in my head. Is this worse than before? I think it is.
Both of our legs are wet, I think with blood I don't know. This lasts for I don't know how long, I'm numb to time passing. It feels like an age. I know it's dark outside still so it must be half the night.
Maud screams gripping my arms.
"I have you, I have you," I hold her up letting her tug on me as she strains.
I her the baby crying before I'm conscious that it's over. Maud leans against me weeping, arms out for her baby. I can't hear anything but both of them crying.
"You're all right, I've got you," I'm whispering, guiding her to the bed. She holds the baby to her naked chest, blue umbilical cord hanging from it, child covered in what looks like white foam. The baby is sobbing bitterly. They give her a cloth for it; she wraps the child, holding it to her chest.
"A son," she whispers.
"It is?" I've thought the whole time it's a girl. I have a son?
"Yes," she laughs, smiling now down at her child.
"A boy," I say, quietly, reaching out to touch the child's back. I was accustomed to the girls. A son is my heir. A boy who can go to war, a boy who might not listen to me when I try to save him from all the cruelties of the real world.
"He's beautiful," Maud smiles.
"Yes he is," I say, softly. I have to protect him.
"Harry?" She confirms.
"Looks like it," I say, gently placing a hand on the child's chest as he squirms.
He looks at me and then ceases his sobbing, eyes unfocused. Not sure what the world is yet.
I come to my senses and start functioning again after a day. Our little Harry is in Emmy's nursery. Less than a year apart poor things, they may as well be twins. But Harry is huge. No wonder his mother suffered so. The child is simply large, with rolls of fat on his arms and chubby little legs and a plump belly. And of course born with a head of pale red hair. Maud adores him as she does the others,  naturally. We now have two children not a year old and a six year old, and of course Tommy who is still here and eleven. Three of our own is sufficient and hey one happens to be a boy. We don't fear for his health like the girls, this boy was born durable it seems. He tries to roll himself over, rarely crying, but always hungry. Maud nurses him and when she's through he'll hold out his hands for a wetnurse.
Apparently having three small children, wanting to watch my older daughter try to teach my younger daughter how to I think curse in Latin, and playing the fiddle while my wife goes to sleep, is not a valid reason not to show up for the latest idiocy in Parliament. I know, I check.
We present the somewhat late Ordinances of 1311, to Edward, an absurd document Thomas is mostly the author of, limiting Edward's rights as king, expanding Thomas' power, and above all else, exiling Gaveston again. It has about all the logic of Thomas telling our tutors he deserved twice the treats I did and that lessons would go better if I had less little treats to distract me, but by default he should have them. It worked then too.
Edward's main sticking point is Gaveston's exile. He's willing to agree to all other charges, which are absurd but I'm sure he's confident he shan't have to actually go through with them.
"If we quit saying 'exile Gaveston' he might agree to chew his own foot off you'd enjoy that," I say, face in my hands, hoping the babies know me when I return home. And aren't old enough to be married. This feels like it's taken ten years.
"You've been here two days if I can do it so can you," Richmond says.
"You're not feeling sorry for the Frenchman are you?" Thomas snarls.
"I'm stating a fact! He's clearly about to lose his crown for Gaveston that's a very big motivator it would seem, Gaveston, we want things from him, how about we fucking use it? We have the one thing he wants why would we destroy it?" I ask.
Richmond looks like he's trying to determine if I'm helping or not.
"What are you proposing?" Thomas asks.
"Give him Gaveston, but we make agree to something stricter than this I've met him he's going to get out of it," I say.
"That would never work," Warwick says.
"If you've a misbehaving child who keeps sneaking out of their room. Do you take their favorite toy, and burn it as a punishment? Of course you don't, then they've not got a reason to obey they simply hate you, they'll keep sneaking out. Why not? You've taken the one thing they wanted. The same principal applies. If you take from a man the one thing he cannot afford to lose? He becomes dangerous. Don't give him that power. When he has nothing else to live for our lives are cheap. You think you hold the power now. You don't have power over a rabid dog you shan't over him if he's lost that man. Yes it's an obsession no it doesn't make sense to any of us, but it clearly matters to him. If you have a misbehaving child you ransom their plaything for good behavior, give it back in intervals, keep it locked up, torment them. And so we use it. Edward has already made a fatal mistake by showing us how much he cares. Now we use it to destroy him. Don't ruin your own chances and give him back the power we've carefully gathered, all for the sake of your temporary pleasure in destroying something he loves," I am mostly staring at Thomas as I say it. Because he never had the control. He could keep me alive yes but I'm his plaything. He always had to ruin my toys. Take away that which I love. He'd kill my wife if he knew I loved her. He has to cause pain. But it's by his own hand he set me free. I had nothing to lose so I went and found something else. He took every reason I ever had to stay. I'm not even here with him out of fear anymore this is simply to help Edward. And unless he's a fool he's going to realize I'm right.
"I didn't know you could talk that long," Thomas sneers.
Richmond looks like he's trying to determine if this is actually helpful or if I'm just frustrated they are so bad at this. Two things can be true.
"Say Gaveston has to remain in his wife's custody. Or in London. His wife is with child he'll take that he's as trainable as a hound. Say he can't leave the south of England. Pick the spot. Edward will go too. We know where Gaveston is we keep Edward in one place, and not scheming against us how can he we hold in the balance the thing he cannot afford to lose? And so Gaveston is in place, Edward is trapped within our grasp we let him show up to Parliament have his shows of power when in reality he has none, when his wife gives him sons they get raised in our households. Now we have more things he cares about trapped within our grasp. That is how you fiddle, gentlemen, you trap a string in your fingers, hold it taught, then you strain the music from it as harshly as you please for while your finger may bleed it cannot escape. We can trap him now we don't through it away. We play him. And we take more of what he wants and we take and we take. And just like that?" I snap my fingers, "You rule the world."
Thomas stares at me, hate burning in his eyes. Of course he knows the words are true. But that's not what he taught me. He taught me power comes from being strong. I just said that power is knowing how to use other's weakness. And he does not like it. It's the very same look as when we were boys. And he realized he'd never beat me at chess. That there are games he's too impatient, too bloodthirsty to play. He can't stand it. He hates losing, more than that he hates losing to me. More than that he hates knowing I'm right. And he knows. Oh he knows.
"He's right," Richmond breaks the silence, "If we want Edward's cooperation then he's already shown us what he values the most. That man. Get over yourselves and we bloody use it. The fool already brought Gaveston back again. Put him under his wife's protection, or a Bishops—not one of ours he'd not trust it, but put him in care get Edward under our thumb. He doesn't need to agree to these when we hold what he truly wants. And he's been stupid enough to show us the lengths he'll go to keep Gaveston."
I can see in their faces they won't listen. They don't see the wisdom of our words. Or the hate is long since curdled. They won't bend not when it would be so fun to watch Edward weep again at Gaveston's loss.
"So we exile him again," Richmond says to me.
I nod.
"Oh my god. You knew. You thought they'd never do it."
"I knew. For a fact. Thomas would never do it if it was my plan. I was right. That's what makes it a trick. It looked true, it was true of course it was that's the logical course. But Gaveston is safer in exile," I say, "Maggies' having the child. She can take it and join him if she likes. If she doesn't she's safe here. But he's far safer in France or wherever. But that's your area. He'll trust you, convince him to stay away. I've done my bit."
"So you have," he sighs, "No I've written to Gaveston. He's well aware leaving while the leaving is good is the best move."
"And what about his loyalty to Edward?" I ask.
"It's there, but he has a five year old daughter, and another child on the way. He's going to protect them first. If he could have both he would but—,"
"But daughters need their fathers. And he always was a man of honor," I say.
"Correct, I'm encouraging him in that. He's going to be exiled from all of England's territory, more than likely," he says.
"Aye but he's just one man, he can go wherever he likes, pretty face or no he can be disguised," I say.
"Quite. I'm helping him move his funds. With his wife's fortune they can get to Portugal or Italy, he's in favor of Italy I think he thinks they speak French there I didn't tell him," Richmond shrugs.
"Good enough. I don't need to know, I'm out of the game," I say.
"You entirely sacrificed yourself for that move," he says.
"Worth it. Now he has the chance to escape," I say, "Let's hope he takes it."
"He will. He won't preserve himself for himself but he will for those girls, and this new child," Richmond says.
"As a man should, Edward won't see it that way."
"Not at all."
Edward does not. Edward is still sure he'll talk us round. He's not talking us round. He offers to agree to everything but exile Gaveston. But Thomas isn't about to budge. Not when he so delights in taking from Edward the one thing he needs the most. Edward pleads. Edward bargains. It's sad is what it is. But in the end he must agree. It's his crown or this. I'm sure Richmond works on him. I am well and truly out of the game I pledged myself to destroying him. And he wouldn't listen anyhow. He's barely listening to Richmond and his own council.
In the end he has to sign. Exiling Gaveston for life, and giving up massive power to the Ordainers. Of which I am not one. My move was a political suicide. And I knew it.
Thomas grips me by the throat, in the hall outside Parliament.
"You're done," he breaths.
"I thought as much. All because I was right? And you were wrong? This will kill you one day," I say.
"Is that a threat? You're threatening me?" He giggles.
"I'm informing you of the rules of the game. You've played chess before Thomas. If you sacrifice all your pieces you can't win. You can lose a few. But there is no endgame in which a lone king can control the board," I say.
"This isn't chess. This is my game," he says, hand tightening on my neck.
"You're right it's not. In chess the pieces are gone once they've left the board. In life the pieces, they just move the other side. Not me though. Because for me it's chess. And I'll disappear," I say.
"I could kill you now. You're getting boring," he says, fingers on the bones of my neck, prepared to crush them and my windpipe.
"Could you? Could you brother?" I ask. My hands are of course free. I have a dagger to his soft belly. He's wearing just a tunic, I press the blade through till it meets flesh, "Would you crush the life out of me before I gutted you?"
"You don't have the nerve," he says.
"Would you stake your life on that?" I ask, staring into his eyes, "Go on. I'd like to see too. After all I have nothing to live for, you have your game to play."
He drops me, backing well away just as I shove the blade in. His eyes flash with a moment of fear. I didn't kill him. But if he hadn't dropped me the moment he did I would have, well before he moved in for the kill.
"I'm out of the game," I hold up my hands, "Go play brother. But stop wasting your pieces."
It says something about Parliament that when we return from the recess clearly having tried to kill each other, his tunic torn and bloody, my neck bruising, nobody says a single thing they just apparently assume that is a typical afternoon in the Lancaster household and to an extent they're right.
A weeping Edward signs the Ordinances. And I go home. I've been released. Thomas controls Parliament now they won't call me.
"How did it go?" Maud asks, kissing me, her hands gentle on the bruises on my neck.
"Checkmate," I whisper past her lips, "I got everything I wanted."
I don't have to be involved in anything ever again.