"A crown is a great weight to bear. But even greater is the weight of a crown at war."
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"You are not like other women I have met Amice." He speaks honestly.
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Every king has his subjects, his council, his advisors... his queen.
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Based on the film...
A familiar soft knocking resonated around Amice's room as she laced her boots.
"You may come in Henry." She called out.
The door opened slowly and he shuffled in, carrying a large bundle of fabric. Amice turned and cocked an eyebrow at the display of the king of England struggling to keep hold of the pile as he tossed it onto her bed.
"We have a council meeting at noon." He announced and she gave him a thin smile. Although she knew that the role she was filling was honourable, she could not help but feel out of place.
"And what is this? A gift to show moral support?" She quizzed, walking over to unwrap the odd package.
"If you wish to see it as one."
"Showing favourites within politics is dangerous." She mocked.
"And that is why I request that this stays between us." He replied, watching her expectantly as she undid the string that encased his gift.
As she tore away the shreds of sacking that were concealing the contents, her small smile swelled to a glorious grin.
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Amice found the council meeting was nothing like she had expected. Instead of Henry leading the topics of discussion, it was in fact the advisors that composed the majority of the volume. She listened intently, ignoring the plethora of odd looks and whispers that were sent her way. She was clearly there by order of the king, and it was nobody's place to question the king.
She remained quiet for most of the proceedings, taking mental note of all of the issues that concerned her beloved country. Yet she couldn't help but feel that the way the men discussed them was naive and misjudged. They were blind sighted by their privilege, so when it came to resolving fundamental issues to do with the people, they seemed to struggle.
The topics moved quickly from taxes to housing to knighthoods to famine. It seemed that all was covered, until a particular member stood and presented a plenitude of evidence as to why France was becoming a liability.
He claimed that they had insulted the king and reciprocation was necessary. Henry deemed it an unnecessary cause, but when more members insisted, cries of support broke out. It seemed that every man in the room was hungry for war.
Amice simply looked to the floor, shaking her head, emitting a hollow laugh. When she lifted her gaze once more, she found Henry glancing at her intently, a silent plea for somebody to support his statement of peace.
She was going to be that somebody.
"A war with France would be detrimental." She spoke clearly and loudly, her voice echoing above those of the turgid council men. Hushed whispers broke out around the room. She glanced to Henry, who simply nodded for her to continue.
"Our armies are strong, yes. Our men are well supplied and well trained. But they are still our men. They are still husbands and fathers and sons. Men who have lives that they lead for a purpose other than to be slaughtered on a battle field because men who can afford it are too proud to accept insults. This is not a petty squabble to be settled with a duel, though it should be. This is war you are voting for. With it it shall bring violence and blood and death. We would lose far more than we would gain."
The room was silent. A few whispered erupted, but quickly died down. Amice glanced the crowd, and they all keenly had their eyes upon her. She sighed in relief, it seemed they had heard her.
Then a voice rang out:
"How dare you!? How dare you speak as if you have any authority or power here? You know nothing of politics or war or battle, you women should remain in your place!"
The room exploded into cries of agreement, of support.
"Disgrace!"
"Foolish!"
"Worthless!"
A voice boomed above the rest, "SILENCE!" Roared Henry, rage visibly engined. Amice shot him a look, a visible ' I can handle it.'
"You say I know nothing of battle yet I can swing a sword better then any man in this room. You say I know nothing of politics yet I see you here, squabbling like children. You know nothing of what occurs beyond these walls. You know nothing of the people, their lives, their hopes, their strifes. And you do not care. This cage of entitlement you have locked yourselves in is dangerous. If it topples, you are trapped, and so shall topple with it." Amice's voice was riddled with emotion, her desperation for them to listen shining through. They had to hear her. They had to.
"It is not a woman's place to attempt to educate those above her!" Yelled the same voice.
And suddenly, it was her rage that was engined.
"Then were is a woman's place? Sat silently beside you in a pretty dress? Or maybe it's tending to your every culinary desire? Or perhaps you believe that a woman's place is beneath you as you clumsily try to impregnate her with your tiny cock!" She spat, staring daggers at the man who had spoken out of place.
"Enough!" Came the kings voice in a shout. "Amice, a word!"
The comment was cold and formal and she felt her muscles tighten. She bowed her head in respect for her king as she followed him from the room through a small door in the back corner.
Soon they stood in a dimly lit hallway.
"That is not how you conduct yourself in court!" His voice was irritated and angry, and she furrowed her eyebrow at him. Had he not heard the other man? She was defending her honour!
"You asked me here not because I am proper, but because I want what's best for the kingdom. Because I will guide you with honesty and loyalty, not with blind adoration. You want a council that falls at your feet, be my guest." She hissed in return, eyes aflame. She couldn't believe him.
"I am the king!" He roared, his voice full of arrogance, trying to force her to obey.
"And right now his majesty is acting like a real asshole. You may be the king, but you are still just a boy." Her words were eerily low and laced with venom.
"You will respect me!" He raged in return, and she felt the pang if hurt. Where had the king she had known gone? Surly the power of corruption was not this efficient.
"I will once you earn it! So be it. Go back to your court. Listen to them. Go to war with France. Let that thing on your head create this illusion of your divine power." She got in his face, speaking through gritted teeth. She pointed to his crown, almost snarling at it. She even balled up her hands to stop herself from knocking some sense back into him.
"The crown is a burden and you know that!" He seemed exasperated now, like he was trying to justify his anger to himself.
"A crown is a great weight to bear. But even greater is the weight of a crown at war." She muttered as she stepped away from him. She met his eyes for a brief moment before she turned and walked away from him, leaving him standing alone in the concrete passageway, torn and confused.
