The Broken Crown

Chapter 56

Raymond

 The temporary truce that winter had given them would soon be over, so while others prepared for the arrival of the New Year, Raymond planned for the wars that spring would bring. He had been so preoccupied with his meetings with various of his advisors and lords generals that when he heard of the Queen entering her confinement, he was taken by surprise.

 “It’ll happen soon, it is said,” Raphael told him as they sat in their council seats. The thick oak door stood open, as it always did when waiting for the Council to conjugate, and only then. “Tonight, or tomorrow morning at the latest.”

 Raymond nodded and put aside his papers, focusing on his brother. Raphael’s face was a bit pale, but his eyes shone with the prospect of happiness. “How is she taking it?” Raymond thought of his own wife, if he could still call her that, and his own daughter. Gabrielle had been through childbirth once when she gave life to Elizabeth, and she had known herself to be good at it. Adrianne, on the other hand, had a history of miscarriages.

 “Fearful,” Raphael admitted, “but hopeful.”

 “Boy or girl?” There was no way they could know it, of course, but some women claimed to be able to sense it.

 “She says it might be a girl,” Raphael said. “Not that it matters. I have two healthy and strong little princes, there’s no need for another one.”

 “And if it is a girl as pretty as Evelyn, then I’m sure she’d be of as good use as any son,” Raymond added with a smile.

 With a nod of agreement, Raphael said, “She takes after her mother.”

 Just then, the room began to fill with councillors. First came Thomas, who seemed a little better rested than he used to, and then came Jonathan, smirking slightly as he spoke with Daniel Mynatt and Timothy Valior. No doubts he was twisting both of them around his finger for later use. Then came Sir Henri Lamarck, followed by his brother in the cloth, Martin. He closed the door behind him, and it settled with a creek and a sigh.

 “My lords,” Raphael said. “Please sit.”

 Those who had not already seated themselves now did.

 “I have already spoken to some of you,” Raphael continued, “with regards to the future of the realm. Sir Thomas gives us optimistic news from the Bank. We had a good harvest and good taxes, and the peace has been upheld during winter. Crime has lessened with the rebels in the North and it has been put to my attention that my wife and I have returned to the remaining people’s favour.”

 The councilmen nodded in agreement; this was no news to them.

 “The peace treaty is in everyone’s favour,” Raymond broke in, “however, now that we have the upper hand and a blossoming support with the people, we may be able to scatter the rebel forces and put an end to the rebellion once and for all.”

 Some mutters spread, while most councilmen nodded between each other.

 “If I may speak?” Thomas was holding a glass of wine between his stumped fingers. He put it down. “This war has cost many lives and much coin. It has been yearlong and tiring. We have all lost family, and we have all lost friends. If the people truly supported us, we would not need to kill half of them to uphold the King’s peace.”

 There was more muttering, but Raymond could not make it out. “It is known that the people is no longer united, that it has been split by this rebellion – yet we must ask ourselves: can we really call those who rebel against their King a part of His Grace’s people?”