The Fiddler (Hand in Hand Chronicles)

Chapter 11 - "hand from hand and heart from heart"

And while my personal life, which is all that matters, is going fine, political tensions are growing worse. And worse. Thomas was never going to take second to Edward, he wants nothing but power. And a famine and all else? He's getting it. One way or another. I accidentally leave my house and attend one Parliament just to check he's still mad. He is. Edward thinks he's doing well.
"Poor soul, Thomas looks ready to go feral," I comment, to Richmond.
"He does, completely unrelated I'm going back to Brittany," he says.
"Brilliant, completely unrelated I'm taking my family to France," I say.
"Oh lovely and nothing to do with what we just said!"
"Exactly!"
"Where are you going?"
"Oh our brother left me some property when he died."
"Oh your John, right. Well best of luck how's the baby?"
"Eleanor, we're running out of girl names, nothing but Ellie, growing loads, red hair of course," I say, proud.
"Good for you."
"Speaking of I should be getting home, if I ride hard I might make supper tomorrow," I say.
"Godspeed, give my love to Maud."
"I shall."
I do ride hard and make it home before supper to be buried under five children mostly armed with wooden swords.
"You're two weeks early," Blanche informs me, clinging to my back.
"I'm aware of that it's by design," I say, I have Harry in a headlock, he loves this.
"Don't be so surprised he's back it encourages him," Maud says, brown eyes flashing with mirth. She comes to kiss my cheek, I move just enough to kiss her fully on the mouth. She laughs.
"How was it?" Tommy asks, handing me Joan who climbed onto his back to somehow try to climb onto mine.
"Fine. Lovely! Parliament was great, the air wasn't filled with static like before a thunderstorm, I feel completely safe and comfortable here in England, my brother definitely isn't mad and likely to make a bid for the throne with the army he has based on papers I didn't read. Completely unrelated to that conversation which is over, we're all going on a trip to France, my brother John left me some property in his will we're going to look at it, let me kiss your mother now," I say, setting down kids and kissing their cheeks and holding Maud's wrist.
"You have a brother John?" Every fucking kid.
"Your brother John is dead!?" Maud of course.
"If I say 'yes and yes I must not have thought about it while I'm around you' am I going to get to kiss your mum in peace?" I ask, holding up my hands.
"NO!"
It's a fun evening. All the kids talk at once like they do. I keep laughing which is 'inappropriate' that's Tommy the rest of my family expects this of me. I sit with my arm around Maud answering questions because now my kids think I might have more family members I didn't tell them about. My elder sister who lived and died in France, and was Queen of Navarre while she lived, is also new information to the kids. Apparently.
It's not a lot of property in France but it is a few estates. I might as well survey it it's been a couple of years. And I decide it's good for the children to see the channel. And be out of England. It's a great plan that does not involve my general fear of water.
"You know how to swim," Joan says, frowning.
"That does not mean I like water follow the buddy system NO WE ARE NOT GOING BELOW DECK THAT IS HOW PEOPLE DROWN, good job Harry thank you see it's not hard, hold your mother's hand now," I say, ushering the children, Bell balanced in my arms, "Nope, Ellie stand right here good little girl, papa's going to pick you up."
"I look terrible in yellow is it okay if I drown while looking great?" Tommy mutters, tugging on his yellow tunic. All of the children are matching in yellow.
"No," I snarl, "You are not allowed to drown. None of you are allowed to drown."
"I like the ocean, and I like swimming," Harry says, cheerfully. Kid's always happy. Usually it's soothing. Not. Now. "Why don't you, papa?"
"I learned to swim late," I say, smoothly. My past is clearly not forgotten because I'm sweating and my stomach is in knots. Suddenly my kids are near the water and I'm five years old, trembling at the sight of the river.
"They can all swim," Maud rubs my back. She knows. A little. She has an idea. She hasn't seen me this bad in years.
We cross safely, I think in part because of my strict safety measures. Also, it's awful, Maud and I both figure out how very spottable kids are while wearing matching bright colors.
"Is it bad it took us six kids to figure out to dress them alike?" She asks.
"Yes but we'll ignore it. Three are little I'm going to use this for some time," I say.
"Agreed, definitely," she says.
The castle my brother left us isn't terribly kept up, but the children are enthused. It's near enough to walk to the ocean which makes me impose strict rules about not going near the ocean. I'm not usually this strict, and I think Blanche senses my obvious stress because she encourages the others to mind. Maud of course backs me. She's aware of my haunted memories.
But as usual the halls are filled with our children's laughter. Blanche has lessons still. Tommy helps with those or shadows me to learn how to manage his own finances. I'm teaching him it's technically his by now. Emmy and Harry both have lessons, together, usually the same thing, except Harry still can barely read short words. He can do sums in his head. But he prefers physical pursuits. We tell the tutors to go slowly with him. Joan now has lessons as well. Ellie our baby is two and walking and babbling happily. Bell is now three years old. A quiet child, while she favors her mother she reminds me hauntingly of myself. She's quiet. She doesn't run and play or go after her older siblings like the others did. She likes one doll which I brought her from London. She'll sit there rocking it and that's about all. She speaks to ask for me or her mother or her doll. She'll whisper her siblings names. Little else.
Maud shares my concerns for her, and my observation that I was equally withdrawn for very horrible reasons. We move her back into Maud's bed, and we separate her nursery from the others. I hire new staff, having her either sit with me or her mother all day. She'll curl up in the corner of my office and rock her little doll.
"It's not like you. The others aren't cruel," Maud reminds me one night.
I say nothing. I know that logically.
"We've changed everything. There's no affect. I don't think anything happened to frighten her. She's just shy," Maud reasons.
"I am aware in my head you're right," I say.
"We're going to keep watching her. She's second to youngest in a big family. And she could be like you in that she likes her quiet," Maud says, looking down at our sleeping daughter.
"You're right," I agree.
"We'll take some walks as a family? She likes riding on your shoulders," Maud offers, "Try to make sure to cheer her a bit she's just not as merry as the others."
"All right," I agree.
The next night a group vote of where to go on a walking tour ends with the seaside, at the risk of my health. I put the stipulation they have to wear matching yellow and they don't even argue.
We go down to the rocky beach. The children are properly enthused. Tommy volunteers to carry Joan, everyone's princess, and I carry Bell on my shoulders, with Maud and I taking turns with Ellie. A few nurses follow in case the little ones need more help.
The surf is fierce and I caution them to stay well out of it. The children take off down the beach, shouting and laughing to each other. Emmy and Harry both brought toy swords for some childhood reason. Tommy and Blanche chase them, encouraging Joan who tears after them. The sun is shining in their bright red hair. And not one of them is afraid of the water.
I set the little ones down, Ellie toddles forward to look at a rock, giggling.  And Bell smiles her precious smile, blue eyes dancing as she stares in wonder at the waves.
I look over at Maud. She's watching our children. A smile on her face. I think about the first night she came to me. Sitting across the table refusing to talk to her. I didn't say two words. Same brown curls she wears down whenever she can, which is always we're always just at home. And our beautiful family. Happy, healthy. No fear of drowning.
I'm well aware I wouldn't be standing here, physically with our beautiful children, let alone anywhere along the beach, without her.
I lean over and kiss her temple, gently.
She smiles, without opening her mouth, like she does soft and sweet.
"Have I ever thanked you for giving me my life?" I ask, quietly, "I'd still be drowning."
"I think, six times," she says, smiling, "It's my life too. And I'm very glad it is."
We kiss to I think our children's mutual disgust. Somehow every one of them gets covered in sand. Harry and Emmy cajole me into chasing them, they think it's very funny that I carry one under each arm, back to their mother. Joan insists on going near the water so I carry her in, making her laugh. Blanche wades in up to her knees, and brings the little girls sea shells. Bell finds a favorite rock and is so happy about it.
We return home wind blown and full of sand. I kiss Maud and we laugh at the children's antics as they chatter happily. Tommy talks for about ten minutes about how terrible he thinks he looks in yellow, three girls tell him to shut up it's amusing.
Safely out of England. And safe in general. There's like nearly civil war going on back there it doesn't affect me at all. We're settled here. I'll be forty next year, Maud thirty nine, we're past middle age. Which is to say our family is complete we're both too old to have another child. One would think. We definitely thought that. It had been a couple of years after Ellie. Maud has mostly quit bleeding so her child bearing days were past and getting stupid with one another before the fire, or that one time when we walked down to the beach after dark, seemed like it would have no consequences.
Consequences is due to be born around Maud's thirty ninth birthday.
We don't figure that out in anything like a respectable amount of time and resort to having to lie and say we were waiting to tell people, not that we're enamored of each other and bad at math. About five months in, a record since Harry surprised us at four months, we figure it out. In our defense the seventh pregnancy means her stomach is loose and ready to hide a baby. In our condemnation, I guess first, and she doesn't believe me.
"Have you bled at all?" I ask, kissing her in the dark of my parlor. The fire's going out but we're warm in each other's arms. My hand journeyed down to her gut which feels thicker than when I last held her.
"You saying I'm getting fat?" Maud laughs.
"Since I last held you a fortnight ago which in the past has meant a child," I say, tactfully.
"I'm too old, I can't bear anymore. What you need another daughter?" She laughs.
"No these five are lovely, thank you very much," I say.
"It's just six babies," she says.
"Yeah you're not a girl anymore, I'm not a young man either," I say. I have white hairs mixed with red these days. My face is lined from years in the sun, and while I'm still painfully lean that's about all that commends me. Also she's nice to cuddle this way I'm completely used to her in my arms, even with more weight. I don't think that comment would go over well.
"No but it's been a good life," she says, "Now we get to watch them grow up. They're all happy. And they know their home is safe. We won."
"That's mostly to do with you," I say, "You saved me from drowning."
"You saved yourself. I gave you something to swim towards," she says, putting a hand through my hair. I kiss her gently, staring into those deep brown eyes. I've always loved how they reflect the light. I stroke a hand down her cheek.
"Kiss me now, we're old enough not to have consequences might as well enjoy it," she winks.
"As my lady commands," I say, kissing her neck.
And she is right we don't have consequences because Consequences is already growing in her belly. A week later Maud admits I might have a point when her dress stays have to be loosened for a third time this month. A couple of weeks after that her belly starts to round, and we both feel the soft kicks of our child. Which means this is happening. Lucky number seven. And I get the unadulterated pleasure of scandalizing our children with the news.
"I'm going to tell you something and I'm telling you at least several weeks in advance so you do not freak out," I tell them over dinner, while Maud grins because she thinks I'm very funny.
They all stare at me in varying levels of horror.
"Did the king die or something?" Tommy asks.
"He thinks that sort of thing doesn't affect him at all no," Blanche says.
"Are we going to England?" Harry asks, excited. He's nine now so everything's exciting.
"Is a guest coming to dinner?" Emmy accurately guesses what I would freak out about.
"Is a dog sick?" Joan also guesses what I'd think they'd freak out about.
"Your mother and I are having another one of you," I say, gesturing generally at them.
Varying levels of disgust and enthusiasm while I laugh.
"Ugh," Emmy winces.
"When?" Blanche is used to this.
"Yay," Harry's always happy.
"Congratulations," Tommy says one of them is polite and it's the one I didn't sire. Hm. Should focus on that.
"Probably after New Year," Maud says.
"Probably?" Three of them I don't know which.
"I love your mother very much and we're not good at math," I say, pleasantly, which elicits noises of disgust from my entire brood.
Maud laughs because as evidenced by my child in her, she thinks I'm amusing.
Unlike Ellie this one gives us through the holidays. Midwives asses we should have about until Maud's birthday which is the start of February. I usually get her presents for that, generally some bit of jewelry, and when the children are born it's usually new cloth for her dresses. This time I also commission new tapestries. We're not at home as it were, we live here now yes but she needs new things for her room. Jokes aside its likely to be a long labor and recovery. We're getting no younger and it's rare the child even lives.
But the pregnancy progresses soundly. We were right in our estimates, by New Year she's getting huge but not due. Undeniably pregnant though, and the child kicks strongly. As ever she feels mostly fine. Harry was the roughest delivery followed by Joan. This one is getting rather large so we assume the worst. This time Blanche is old enough she asks to stay with her mother. We both agree. She might as well see child birth before she has one of her own. Neither of us knew properly what to expect when she was born. Maud wasn't raised in the same household as her half brothers so she never saw it, and of course my life is a closed book up till my marriage.
Grimly, Maud and I have concerns for the child's health and survival. Just like the first time, I'm now mostly praying that Maud comes through it safely.
The labor starts at the end of January. Right about on time. Maud suspects her time is nearing for days, by now she knows well the signs. The pains come in the early morning, and Blanche and I both remain with her. It takes a mere few hours of labor. Mere being relative when I'm letting her grip my arms as I pray and she strains. It's nowhere near as rough as some of the others, I don't know if it's experience or luck. As before I help Maud hold our baby to our chests. We're weeping, so is Blanche. Our new daughter is as well. Of course a girl I'm not even surprised I wasn't expecting a boy.
"She's so sweet," Blanche says, leaning on me.
"Yeah look at you," Maud grins down at the child. Fifteen odd years ago we were doing this for the first time with this one who's tucked under my arm, and I was wondering how I'd keep her safe. Maud's face glows as warmly as it did the first time I saw her hold our daughter in her arms. All those years ago. It feels like yesterday and yet. We have a full and happy house.
We're running out of girl names, honestly. I suggest Maud call it whatever she wants. She doesn't want the baby not to have a familial name like the others and asks about any other women in my family.
"Well I had a sister 'Mary' but she died in infancy," I say, holding our unnamed little one to my chest. Like the others she'll fall asleep to the sound of my voice.
Maud stares at me.
"Really why would I tell you that though? Would that come up?"
"Henry my love WE HAVE SEVEN CHILDREN."
"Shh I know that. I didn't really think about it. She died in the cradle so it's not really a good omen is it?" I ask.
"We're calling her Mary for that poor little girl. You'd have made an excellent brother," Maud says, she's holding Ellie who has missed her mama.
"All right, your baby—why do you think I'd make a good brother?" I frown. I'm a terrible brother. "Why would you say that?"
"Go look at your daughters—?"
"Oh them. Yeah I should tell them they wanted to know the name."
I tell them and they collectively freak out. They didn't know I had a sister Mary either.
"I don't think of these things around you people," I say hands over my ears.
"Did mum know?" Emmy knows me.
"She did as of two hours ago when your sister got named, since you're all full of energy go practice music or I'll play chess with however many of you will play me go, five minutes," I say, clapping my hands. They hurry off to obey. I play chess with as many of them at once as I can manage, just going between games as they work on their moves. If they want advice I give it. If they want to try themselves I don't. Usually I play with pieces missing on my side. Blanche is good she'll have me play at full strength the younger ones no.
Our little Mary proves strong, she's a decent sized baby, not huge but not little like Bell was. She nurses well and doesn't cry so much, perhaps its our ease as parents but she simply fits in. Her mother or I hold her, we still go in and watch her sleep like we did with all the others.
The elders are wild things. I adore them. More than once Maud comes out to the yard to find me under a pile of my offspring, laughing that I surrender. Family sparring involves all but the youngest two girls. Bell usually rides on my shoulders with her own weapon. I say this is Norse style and none of them know better to correct me. Bell is still a quiet thing, but she's happy and now plays a bit with Ellie so that's all that matters. 
Harry struggles with his reading. He mixes up letters and writes poorly. But he's learning slowly as best he can so that's what matters. Despite my fears his siblings don't tease him or mock him at all. No. The girls all unite to protect him. They read things for him, or help him as he asks, oftentimes they'll voluntarily go over his penmanship with him. He'll never be a scholar but he doesn't have to be. He is my heir however he's not alone. Blanche is oldest and more than capable, she's already learning to manage the family affairs, so she can do that, with Emmy if she likes, and he can go and be the man and show up to Parliament and things as necessary. It's a decent system, and they all get on. My concerns about infighting are pleasantly negated whenever a pack of them gang up on me during family sparring.
Mary's younger than Ellie by two years, Bell by four, so it's still an active nursery with three of the seven under the age of five and not even to lessons yet. To get the toddlers to sleep they're in their own rooms with nurses which means occasionally Maud's bed or Bell has been known to beg to stay with me and I deny them nothing so occasionally mine.
Mary has her own little nursery, where Maud and I watch her get to sleep. I'll play the fiddle like I did with her elder siblings. One such night she's finally gotten to bed. I stand over the cradle, watching her sleep.
"She's strong, I'm glad, your poor sister," Maud says, leaning against me.
"I know I feared with my youngest, Mary was our family's youngest. But we don't know that that was cradle death though. Thomas could have smothered her. He did this to my neck," I say. And because I'm usually comfortable talking to my wife I say things that go through my head without remembering that I'm saying it perfectly calmly and it is weird.
"What?" Maud looks up at me, horrified. Appropriately.
"Well I don't know he did. I said it to him when I was last alone with him back at Pontefract," I say. I did tell her that entire incident and my response to my nephew's deaths. I too am surprised she continued to have children with me. "I said 'you did this to my neck' and he was shocked and I saw guilt in his face I think. He didn't deny it so I assume it's true, and if he was sneaking into my nursery to pick up and maul me he may well have done with our sister our mother got our brother away rather quickly—I can tell you're upset I'm very over it. It was meant to be a statement that our daughter is likely well as a madman isn't lurking to murder her."
Maud hugs me tightly, "I'm so sorry."
"There's a reason we're on another continent than him," I say, "And I'm fine."
"Perhaps that's why we had another so late like that. Give your sister's spirit a chance," she says, softly, looking down at our daughter, tears on her face.
"Like I said our mother left with John after that—do you think she thought I did it?" I ask.
"I don't know, I don't know how she could blame you after she knew what happened to you."
"Once she loved me. I don't know. Let's never let our children have this conversation someday?" I sigh, "Once my parent's loved me. They don't anymore, I know that much is true? They're not even allowed to think it."
"No, never, and your evil brother—someday his reckoning must come," she says.
"Oh it shall, of his own design."
And it does. We end ourselves. Play a bloody game, you get a bloody prize. Thomas of course rises up against Edward and all but deposes him, controlling all of the north and forcing Edward and his family to flee. They have no army. I know Edward writes to me saying that he has no army. I was once his friend please lend him aid.
I don't think my responses of "calm down let him wear himself out" is helpful but it's good advice. Thomas is evil of course. But he's ultimately a bully. He didn't fight me because he would lose. He preyed on me when I was a little boy, for his own maniac pleasure. He hated chess. 
"There's a beauty in chess. Sixty four squares. Thirty two pieces to occupy them. Sixteen chessmen against sixteen chessmen. The most beautiful game ever designed. Ever to be played. You win. Or you lose. Because you are cleverer than the man across from you. No tricks no secret deals," I say, holding up a king, as I kneel before Bell. She's old enough to learn. The others are already playing.
She nods, very seriously.
"Sixty four squares. Each move counts. Make the wrong one. Pay the price. Be ready to lose the piece. And keep playing no matter what you've done wrong. No second chances. You must deal with the moves you've made, and the game you've created. Once you master that? Accept that there is nothing but the puzzle before you? No emotions, no attachments just joy in each move. That is when you win. Checkmate. The king is the weakest piece you simply preserve him. And sometimes you preserve him, by exposing him," I say, setting the king down, "End game. Show me your last three moves and topple the king."
She moves the consort. Then a knight. She won in two.
"Very good," I smile.
Thomas doesn't like chess. He likes weighted dice. Marked cards. He likes knowing he has all the power. That's his mistake. Ruling the north of england is all well and good. Except there's something very significant about the north of England that Thomas didn't remember.
Scotland.
Specifically, Robert the Bruce. Robert the Bruce isn't a bad man. He's a warrior. The man parlayed with Gaveston and the way Gloucester told it, they had a pleasant conversation and agreed to fight. A man of honor, a man of chivalry, respects another man of honor regardless of rank. Squabbles over castles aside, Robert the Bruce not only knows what became of Gaveston. He also knows Edward is an honorable man. No not a warrior, but that's fine Robert would rather he not keep taking castles in a weird adult game of keep away. He knows Thomas slaughtered an honorable knight. He's not stupid. He knows what kind of man that makes Thomas. And he's a warrior himself. Thomas' army is divided right now fighting Edward in the south and trying to maintain a the border. He might give Edward the courtesy of ignoring the border till they can get a good skirmish in. But he's not going to give Thomas that. Why would he? He'd rather Edward on the throne. And Thomas is a man without honor.
I know all this because Richmond, Edward, and Robert the Bruce tell me. He's happy to fight ME on the border of Scotland anytime not my pest of a brother. Edward doesn't say all that he's threatening me to come and help him he thinks he's losing. He's not losing. He's about to win he can thank me later.
Because my best move is my favorite. Do nothing. Do nothing and wait. If I were to return Thomas would move back into England to fight me. Why do that when Robert the Bruce can ruin his army for me, bankrupting him? Edward is fine it's likely good training for him. If he can still be that bitchy in his letters he's clearly got control of his and Hugh le Despenser's single shared eighth of a brain.
And then I get word doubly. Robert the Bruce writes that my brother has been routed please come play again soon he'd love to have me. I don't know why he writes me.
And I get the official letter from Windsor.
Thomas is dead.
Beheaded, for treason.
Thomas is dead
Dead.
Thomas is dead.
I get this word standing with Emmy and Harry, out in the yard. Maud is there, and Blanche comes running.
And I realize by their faces hysterical laughter is not the expected response.  They knew I didn't like him but.
He's dead.
He can't drown me again. It's over.
"Checkmate, motherfucker," I'm laughing and wheezing, face in my hands.
"He's—fine," Maud pats my shoulder delicately, "I think your father's fine anyway."
"Fuck you, fucking—," I can't breath. But I'm not drowning. Never again. I'm the one who lived.
"He's fine. I really think he's fine this is—Henry our children are worried. Are you fine?" She asks.
"I'm fine," I'm still laughing hysterically.
"Was he this happy when any of us were born?" Emmy asks.
"Be honest," Joan is here now too.
"Yes—yes I don't even know if this is happy this is trauma," Maud says, "That's good. We're all happy your brother's dead, I'm very happy. We'll have a feast tell the children you're all right."
I think she was being sarcastic and I would not hold her to that feast but I do. I keep having bouts of hysterical laughter throughout the next three days.
He's dead.
He's dead. He died knowing I'm sitting on a beach in France with my wife and seven kids, and that I wasn't frightened of him anymore. And it's over.
I write to his wife congratulating her and she writes congratulating me that's a nice relationship with my sister in law.
And we return to England. Nothing stopping us from going home now. The children gradually realize that I basically knew this was going to happen and that's why we left.
"How could you just leave?" Harry asks, "You knew war would start."
"Because we're Lancasters. We play to win. In chess do you keep moving across the board if you're out of pieces?" I ask.
"No, you retreat, let them move to vulnerable position."
"Correct. You are very brave, and you are strong, and your sisters and perhaps a wife one day will have need of that. But you also must learn to fight battles you can win. We stay alive. And we don't lose," I say.
"Your'e going to have to teach me," he says, frowning.
"You can bet on it," I say, hugging him around the shoulders.
For the first time I take my family to court, to pay homage to Edward and show there is no ill will. He knew there wasn't. I also know he's angry with me. I bring my family so they can see court the kids want to. The girls are in brightly colored dresses they look like so many butterflies, Tommy and Harry are matching me in deep blue velvet with red trim. Maud is in dark purple and is carrying Mary in a matching gown because we thought it would be cute and it is.
"Your Majesty," I bow to Edward, deeply, unnecessarily when he's justifiably pissed at me.
"Cousin," his teeth are gritted, "Let's speak in private."
"Of course—my love," I kiss Maud's cheek, then follow him to a private parlor.
"So good to be back in your presence your grace—oww—you are very strong," I say, as he wheels me around by the front of my shirt.
"You're an idiot," he says.
"You won did you not? The bitch is dead," I say.
"What?" He frowns, "I thought—,"
"You're welcome. I warned him enough to make him want to prove me wrong. I told him he'd never get your crown. It was true. But I burned him. Then I left. He had to prove me wrong. He took his time I admit. Lancaster controls the north my money was on Scotland pulling through. Robert the Bruce delivered in abundance. If I'd sailed back to you Thomas would have retreated to safety I couldn't have that. I needed him to stay north to be destroyed. You had the army to control him after that. I rallied no men, and you wouldn't have trusted me then anyway now you do. Checkmate. I don't lose," I say.
Edward drops me, staring at me. I did well that was very easy to understand with no metaphors Maud says I use too many if I'm talking to normal people.
"You'd say that to get back on my good side," Edward says.
"Since when am I tactful enough for that? Last I checked I'm a Baron and Baron's don't like you. Give me ten minutes and a pitcher of wine I could be the next Thomas. I am here cousin, because I want to be, count on that," I say, hands on my hips.
He hangs his head, tears are in his eyes, "I feel like I can't trust anyone."
"Good! That's a good feeling. Go with that feeling!"
"Hugh is practically my only friend—,"
"Love my brother in law to death don't trust him either!" I say, very encouragingly.
"You're exhausting," he sighs.
"Don't trust me either. I assume Hugh already advised you but you're not giving me all of Lancaster. Let me have some I don't care what really I'm already a rich man. You'd make me the richest man in England that's a man you can't trust. Don't give it to favorites either offhand give it to your kids said and done," I say.
"I thought you'd come here demanding it," He says.
"That's not me," I say, "I want a good life. I don't want this. I'm just good at it."
"I'll give you some of his properties. Alice's properties—pass to—," he waves a hand.
"Thomas' heir which is, ironically, me," I say, "I know. I don't want them."
"I'm letting her keep a portion, absorbing the rest," he says.
"Agreed, that's best," I say, "I'm home to stay now, anything else before our wives start to worry about us?"
"Isabela doesn't worry," he says, dryly, "Not about me."
"Like that?" I ask.
"I'm not a good husband as it happens. Well it wasn't a love match," he says, "Anyway. Your family looked well. Haven't had a son to name after me."
"That was why," I smile.
He does too, finally, "Come here, it's been too long cousin."
I let him embrace me, his thick arm as strong as ever, and nearly comforting.
"Come around more often all right? None of your excuses. And bring those kids, mine need playmates, my Eddie's been going through them quickly."
"I shall," I say, wondering if I'll go through with it.
Maud and the children are all waiting, the elders wanting to hear what transpired. On the ride to Kenliworth I explain what it means for us, effectively nothing. I don't want to be a power in Parliament for one thing it means I show up for another I don't want to be seen as a threat to Edward, worse him to think it. In all technicality I'm the third Earl of Lancaster now, not just Baron.
Kenilworth is as we left it, the little ones don't properly remember though, and Mary of course was born in France. She's now two years old and running everywhere after her siblings.
And we are happy. Winter is coming. The children want to go to court so I'm not going to deny them, even if Maud and I are happy as ever staying home by the fire.
The first snow comes, covering the marsh and woods with a fine layer of white. By now we take expeditions as a family, I'm still a bit paranoid though now I'm more comfortable in shouting distance of my precious ones.  Nurses usually come to help carry the little ones.
Maud and I trail at the back, pausing to kiss in the snow, while our children shout for us to keep up. Blanche is carrying Mary who wanted her big sister and a nurse has Ellie who is stubbornly trying to make a snowball.
I hold Maud's hand as we trail behind the children, the snow is gently coming down. It's a beautiful day.
"Next summer we should have a proper hunt out here, we've got enough dogs for all of them," Maud observes, pausing to look past the trees. I return to her side.
"If you like," I say, frowning. I don't see what she's looking at, "Do you see deer?"
"I thought I did, a hart. Just—," she pauses.
"Are you all right?" I ask, she's gone very pale.
"I feel very unwell," she says, her voice breathless. I grip her arms, she leans on me heavily.
"What is it?" I ask.
"I don't know—Henry—," she takes another gasping breath, sinking into my arms. Her body jerks.
"No—no—no—hold onto me. Love? Please, please, please, please, look at me, please," I sink to the snow, holding her upright in my arms as she jerks. Then goes very, very still, eyes rolled up into her head, body stiff.
"Please, please, please come back to me, you can't leave me, don't don't leave me please," I am gasping for breath. I feel like I'm drowning. I know she's gone. I felt the life go out of her. I've seen men die. I know what death looks like and now it's painted upon her beautiful face.
I hear a scream. Blanche saw us.
I'm shaking. I can't breath. I can't do anything but sit here holding here like that will somehow bring her back. I'm still choking that word. Please. Pleading with her to come back to me.
Blanche collapses against me.
"Mum? Mummy?" She's choking as sobs rib through her throat. Harry clings to her arm. Joan and Emmy grip her other arm, as they kneel across from me.
"Mama?"
"Mama please come back."
"Mummy?"
"I want mama!"
"No, no," Blanche shakes her head.
They are all sobbing terribly. Ellie collapses beside me, and Bell runs to shake my arm.
"Papa?" Bell whispers.
I can breath again.
"I'm here," I choke, slowly lowering Maud's body to my lap. Her daughters are next to me quaking with grief. I wrap my arms around Blanche and Bell, and then the others crawl closer, clinging to me and their dead mother as we all kneel on the forest floor.  Tommy is holding a sobbing Mary and comes to kneel by Joan's side, hugging her as she sobs bitterly.
"Mama please come back," Bell whispers.
"No, not you, not you," I whisper, tears washing down my face, as I hold our children.
Slowly I reach out a trembling hand to close her eyes. Then I lean down and kiss her forehead one last time.
"Goodbye, my princess," I choke, "I'm so sorry."
The children begin to sob harder. I put my face into Bell's hair as I hold her. Ellie crawls into my lap next to her mother, tugging on her mother's dress.
Our grief does nothing to bring her back.
I'm drowning.