All the World (Hand in Hand Chronicles)

Chapter 18: " Did never sorrow go so near my heart"

And so I return from my second exile. Again, I think that's a rather unique statement and am focusing on the rather gallows humor that twice I, the son of a Gascon knight, have been deemed important enough to be exiled.
"You will all have to be quiet of my powers of sorcerery. Which I'm using on Edward, obviously, and yet not all these people who wish to kill me," I say.
"It's not even funny anymore," Alice says.
"I'm with him it's, a little funny," Aimee says, laying her head on Alice's shoulder.
But none of us are laughing.
We dock in Lincolnshire. And as before Edward is waiting. This has been the longest we've been parted since we met, and I'm struck by how obviously similar he looks to when I last saw him. Nearly the same robes, hair long and curly, thick beard.
It's I who have changed. I'm no longer jousting or even riding daily. Walking about Carrikfergus has left me leaner than I was at court, and my hair is trimmed practically short as I've twice ridden to battle and donned a helmet. I am now smooth shaven, in an attempt to change my appearance from the man I was in England. I and the others are all clad in Irish wool, despite the summer sun life on the channel is usually cold.
This time Edward doesn't give me time to bow before he's rushed to my arms to kiss me. Again it's odd this has happened twice, but since it's happened before the others are not overly surprised at the obviously emotional reunion. I've had mixed emotions about returning but the moment I'm in his arms again I know I'm home. I feel hot tears on my cheeks. 
"I love you," I whisper, kissing his cheek.
He grips me, unable to speak.
"I'm home. We're all right," I say, squeezing his arm. Because seeing him now my worst fears are realized. Edward is not all right.
We convene at his nearest residence. He's polite if quick with the girls, taking a moment to ask Maggie how she liked Ireland, but he's not himself. He doesn't even notice the new dog with us, or make friends with the three new staff that came with us, and he barely seems to notice the baby. He's a man one step short of losing his mind.
I get him alone as soon as possible, well aware he will keep up the facade as long as possible in front of the others. And at this point I've mostly forgotten my own concerns in my fear for his health. I have been aware, partially thanks to Richmond, that his letters have abridged the animosity that is still occurring.
Finally we are alone in his or my chambers, I don't know, he nearly falls into my arms, weeping openly.
"I can't have you leave. I can't—it was terrible," he says.
"My love is with you, do you not believe that?" I ask, holding him up as he leans against me.
"It isn't—you don't understand," he says, gaining composure a bit. "It's only you. You don't know what it's like, you have your sister."
"What don't I know?" I ask, very close to becoming annoyed that he's unaware the hell I've been through these past few years.
"You're the only person I can talk to. I look around a room and you're not there it's like I can't breath. You're the person I've known the longest. That I love. I just want you—I want you there so I can talk to you. So I can have someone who knows me. This emptiness in me, it's so cold. It's so cold and I don't feel it when I'm with you but when I'm alone it's like I'm being torn apart," he says, voice shaking, tears overflowing those sweet blue eyes.
"I'm so sorry," I whisper, putting a hand to his cheek.
"I won't let them take you from me again," he says, kissing my hand.
I have no idea how he plans to stop them.
"We won't. As I told you in my letters we will manage it. We can manage most anything, the two of us?" I force a smile.
"I did fear for a moment you would caution against coming," he says, softly, "Your letters—you spoke of staying in Ireland."
"I wanted you to know I was well. No. I will always come when you call," I say.
I have to promise him that.
Nobody else ever has. And it's the most tragic thing in the world. Everyone deserves at least one person willing to run home to them from across the world. And not only does he only have me. But he has been forced to lose me time and again.
I kiss him gently and let him cradle me in his arms. I spend that night again locked in his embrace. But he holds me so tightly I'll bruise. His fear of losing me is intense. Even if outwardly he's confident as ever.
And after such sweet sobriety of Ireland I am fully back to my old tricks. We are back at court. And I go with Edward, wherever he goes, walking once more at his side, once more in fine robes. Pale from Ireland and smirking, I walk past all of them. Head held high. At my king's side. Where he wants me.
Edward tries to convene Parliament in October. None of the Earls agree to come, citing me as the reason.
"Am I flattered that my toxic presence scares away the rats?" I ask, hand on my chest.
"You are not," Aimee says.
"I don't know how they expect me to go over their stupid Ordainers if they don't come," Edward says, he's genuinely confused though.
"I think they don't want me there," I say, gently.
Richmond writes to confirm this. He didn't refuse to come to avoid me. He simply wasn't spending money on the journey when he had good authority the others weren't coming so it wasn't happening. Surrey shows up which is nice I think. We have supper with him. Surrey doesn't even like me he just wasn't in the loop as it were so he didn't know we weren't doing it.
Edward calls a different parliament for the start of next year. We expect no one will attend either. We is people who aren't Edward.
"If they want to go over it then they'll have to come," he says, slyly. He doesn't actually want to go over it. I know him.
But I also don't care at the moment. The tensions are running high as ever. And as it happens my reputation has not improved for my absence. But I'm glad to ignore all of that. Edward and I back together. And we can pretend things will go well. Pretending is all we have. Even that is wearing thin.
I keep my household primarily with his, wherever we are. Isabella seems much more settled in and she and Maggie spend some time together. My little daughter is now nearly two years old, and is now talking away, even if it's primarily in mumbled french that only I and Aimee and her mother can understand.
Christmas is back at Langley, which is where we've been staying anyway. Richmond does come for the feast. Not publicly, he's too clever for that, but at my invitation he does show up. Several of Edward's relatives, a couple of nieces and a sister, do as well. But Richmond is the closest thing I have to a relative, beyond my immediate family.
"Are you aware that the majority of the population of nobles wants you not merely exiled but dead?" He asks, softly, as we stand at the edge of the feast. Edward is having an intentionally good time, ignoring his problems something I envy his mastery of.
"I am," I say, looking at my cup of wine.
"Then why. In god's name. Are you not in Ireland?" Richmond asks, "You spoke of doing well there."
"I'm not there. Because he needs me here. You know that," I say.
"This isn't doing his reputation any good either, Piers," Richmond says, gently.
"I know. But you saw him. I've only heard of it," I say.
"He was ready to trade anything to get you back," he sighs, "I think if they'd asked him to strike off his right hand he'd have done it."
"He needs me. He rules the country he needs someone to talk to, someone who believes in him," I say, "That's me. Isabella and he get on fine, but she's not his best friend. I am. And I'm not going to leave him."
"You realize now it is at the hazard to your life?" Richmond asks.
I nod.
"It is a witch hunt, now, boy. Nothing you can do will stop it. The grave is dug. They're going to circle you until you lie in it, so for heaven's sake go," Richmond sighs, "Go to Brittany. Go to Gascony. Go back to Ireland. But go."
"I can't. If I left him it would break his heart," I say.
"You value his heart above your life?"
"Yes."
"Do you not realize if you lose your life that will also break his heart?"
"Not the same. If I leave him that's a choice and he'll live knowing he couldn't protect, couldn't keep, the one person he wanted. I can't do that to him. He's the kindest man alive. He'll do anything for anyone, and all he wants is me. I can't do that to him. If I die then I didn't abandon him. At least while he lives knowing he lost me, then at least he can know I loved him enough to die for him. That has to mean something. My love has to mean something in all this," I sigh, watching as Maggie and Isabella play some sort of card game before the fire. Edward is watching and somehow judging, both girls are laughing.
"Heaven help you, son," Richmond says, softly.
"In all seriousness the dying bit is more dramatics. They can't actually put me to death I have committed no crime. Duel me? Yes, but I won't accept. I don't joust anymore. I stay with Edward. They'll push for exile again, more than likely, or to revoke the duchy of Cornwall. Fine. I'll go back to Ireland. I'll pretend to leave and change my name and come back as a servant, might get drunk and give myself facial scars. You never know a lot of things could happen," I say.
"That wasn't even a bad idea. I think you should do that," he says.
"You don't even know how close I am," I sigh, "I'm one bloody parliament session from it."
"Someday perhaps we'll be given to understand all of this," he says.
"But not today."
"No. Not today."
We pass the holiday cheerfully enough, with the threat of Parliament looming. The earls once again refuse to come if I'm there. The few royalist, including Richmond, aren't refusing they are just stating it's pointless if they're the only people who come.
Finally, the more obstructive ones agree to come to Parliament in Westminster, if I am not there, if they can come armed. I am so far lost in the madness I can't stop laughing.
"The—-only —-'safe'—way for them to appear? Is armed? Because I can curse them all with a look so they're protecting their persons from the evil evil sodomite clad in silk who calls them mean names?" I'm laughing hysterically.
"No, seriously arm themselves against —what?" Maggie asks.
"The evil sorcerer sodomite who calls them mean names, put that on my tomb, Mags," I'm laughing so hard I'm crying.
"Does Edward find it this funny?" Aimee asks.
"Oh, he hasn't read it yet."
He does not find it funny. I intercepted it because sometimes I need entertainment.
"They're threatening me," Edward says.
"You're taller than all of them and freakishly strong YOU can probably take them unarmed," I say.
"I'm not that strong," Edward says.
"You once picked me up in one arm and Young Hugh Despenser in the other. Nobody is as strong as you," I say, "Also, I want you to pause from being stubborn and think about how truly fucking funny it is that they can't be in the same room as me—because you fucking me makes me so odious—and they're coming armed to a room I'm not even in. Because they're that afraid. Of me. Who they've banished fucking twice. How dramatic and stupid do they look?"
"It's their ordainers they want to talk about I don't!" Edward groans, "And I think you should come. It's my bloody parliament."
"God no. I will be right here. You tell me afterward. Let them have their show. They look ridiculous," I say, tapping the letter, "Let them come in armor in guards in case the silk clad sodomite is lurking to sneer at them and hurt their feelings or whatever I've done."
"Don't call yourself that," Edward says, frowning, "Is that what you think of yourself?"
"Yes—? It's true I'm not going to be ashamed of it. I mean, I'm not a sorcerer like they say I'm not clever enough to be I think you have to read Latin to do that—,"
"Perot," he smiles a little.
"Yes. It's what I am. I'm a filthy little freak. And they can all eat glass for all I care. If anything I'm flattered they think I have that much power," I say.
He leans over and kisses me, "Thank you for being strong."
"We can do this," I say. But I don't know what 'this' is. It's obvious they're using me now as an excuse to buck Edward's rule. And they are doing it with remarkable efficiency. I'm a worthy scapegoat of ineptitude, nothing more. That's what's all so laughable. Clearly it isn't even about me anymore or they'd have either had me killed, or come to Parliament months ago.
I'm to stay at Langley, in safe keeping. Edward waffles between his desire to have me within arms reach at all times, and his desire to keep me safe, and eventually leaves me with the rest of the family at Langley. Isabella goes north with him because he has to pick someone to talk to and she's in least danger.
We're bored at Langley and go hunting and waste away the time. Turns out later we were not intended to go hunting and Edward rolls his eyes and pardons us for that. It was 'Royal land'.
"So's your bed," I say, hands on hips.
"Don't start, I know, you're pardoned," Edward says, rolling his eyes.
That's the only moment of levity we have.
The Parliament goes incredibly badly, and this is even on a scale of Edward's usual parliaments. The earls demand to form a group of 'Lords Ordainers' who will go over the charges against Edward's rule. Edward refuses the oversight, in what Richmond details to me as screaming fights, primarily between him and Lancaster but also others like Arundel. I am the only major Earl, not present, as Earl of Cornwall. That said I'm politically useless, as the lynch pin of their entire argument against Edward. And so I'm at Langley, just like about four years ago, being used as the tool to punish Edward. Aimee and Alice understand the irony, and tell Maggie. Interestingly enough she also recalls the incident.
"My grandfather said you were a good knight. He blamed my uncle for 'corrupting' you, that's what I heard anyway," Maggie says.
"Oh lovely. I'm still the pawn in their game," I say.
"To quote Richmond, you're choosing to continue playing," Maggie points out.
"Oh yes," I smile grimly.
Parliament is awful. Edward finally agrees after weeks of debate. He has little choice. He returns to us mostly having worked off his anger on the ride down. And he's even come up with a plan.
"What plan can you have to possibly fix this? Their oversight?" I ask.
"For one I have to agree to it when they write it up. And I won't. For another. We're going on campaign. To Scotland," Edward says.
"Oh that—that would fix it," I nod.
A campaign. Scotland is out of England so I'm safer. And if Edward distinguishes himself on campaign that could earn some respect. Richmond is staying back here with the Ordainers, as more a spy than an Ordainer, and Lincoln will be regent. Then Edward and I are doing nothing to remind them of our presence. And campaign is fun. Robert the Bruce has an army and he's a noble opponent.
Little did I realize, 'campaign'  to Edward, means moving our entire families to Scotland, slowly, with an army just sort of around us, and hoping that Robert the Bruce will not come and fight us.
"I don't need actual war. I'd lose that would look awful," Edward says, "Stop making that weird noise and face, Piers. We all know you like risking your life in battle you're very good at it yes it's how I got you, yes you're a tournament champion, yes I know you're just fine, yes you did well in Ireland, no I will not ask Robert the Bruce to fight you personally in single combat because you are bored! No, not even if you ask very very nicely!"
"How did he get all that from those gestures?" Isabella asks.
"They have whole arguments that way," Maggie says.
Yes, the wives comes. The wives is a weird way to say the little girls we're responsible for. Not that Maggie isn't a charming companion but again I was rather hoping to go to war and feel better with the distraction of it. However it's rather obvious early in the campaign that that isn't to be.
We reach Yorkshire by September. Nobody campaigns in winter but this isn't honestly a campaign it's moving to Scotland. And we all know it.  All of my girls are with me, I'm not about to leave them behind now. Edward calls me paranoid for this, pointing out they'd be more comfortable in England, and his niece is entirely safe. I applaud his optimism and they come as it's not actual campaign.
And sadly I'm proved right.
We get to our house in York late in the day. The servants scramble to get everything ready. Edward, as ever understanding to his staff, tells them it's no trouble and that we'll dine first. We do, then break off to go to our rooms past midnight. Maggie and Aimee usually share when we're doing something like this, and Alice is with the baby. To that end, when Maggie and Aimee go to retire they come back, telling me the room isn't ready.
"We'll see if mine is," I say, leaving the feast to join them. Maggie looks tired, I know she had a headache or cramps or something to that end earlier, because she road with me as my charger is steadier than the mare she was on. She's spent half the afternoon leaned against my back, both of us sweating and miserable.
"Are you sure?" Maggie asks, leaning on my arm.
"Yes it's not like I'm usually in it," I mutter. I wasn't planning to go to Edward but it's not like he'd turn me away if I showed up, let alone for practicality he'd not care.
"I usually like York," Aimee muses, as we go to the rooms assigned to us.
Sure enough, the one the stewards were laying out for me is ready with a bed made up.
"Like I said I'll be fine, get some rest," I say, going to pick up the clothes they laid out for me. No point telling the servants to move them I don't particularly care I'm honestly going to go find Edward's room and wait for him.
"Thank you," Aimee says, she looks as tired as Maggie.
There's a shirt, and extra blanket or something laid out at the end of the bed. I reach out to gather them, only to see a dark flash. I snatch my hand back, leaping backward.
"What—?" Aimee sees my movement.
I draw my dagger and use it to move the sheets to reveal to writhing black adders.
"What is that?" Maggie asks, getting behind me quickly.
"Snakes, stay back they're poisonous," I say.
"Don't say anything, he was bound to be right eventually," Aimee says which honestly doesn't mean anything at all.
But I'm not concerned about that.
I cut the snakes in two then hand Aimee my knife.
"Stay there," I say, going to the window.
Sure enough there's a figure retreating into the dark.
I whistle to a few of my men, then leap out the window heedless of if they heard.
"Stop there!" I call, breaking into a run.
The retreating man begins to run as well. Which is not the behavior of an innocent man.
I double my pace and catch up with him. Behind me six of my and Edward's men have followed. It's dark and I can barely see the ground beneath me let alone make out what colors the fleeing man might be wearing.
It's none. I reach him and spin him around by the shoulder he's dressed as a servant.
"State your name, why did you flee when I called to you?" I ask.
The man draws his blade. I have none I left it with the girls, so we fight quickly for control of his. He's the smaller man and despite the aggression, apparently the less experienced in such matters. He strikes me on the head with the butt of the weapon, and I manage to get hold of his arm, twisting the knife down and into his own throat.
We are both immediately washed with hot blood, and the man crumples against me. Dead.
I sigh, dropping the weapon and the corpse, "Someone fetch the king."
I say it because Edward needs to know there was an attempt on our lives, well my life at least and by extension my wife and sister, and my daughter and Alice are still in there so's Isabella we need to clear all their rooms. Edward will get that done the quickest.
I do not say it because seeing my lover walk up, calmly, still holding a cup of wine, happily and effectively protesting he's sure there's some mistake; only to see me. Covered in someone else's blood so obviously fresh from a brawl. My hands on my hips. Standing over a corpse. His expression changes immediately from 'soothing concerned guardsmen' to 'I love him but I need to kill him with my bare hands', that I nearly laugh. The absurdity of our lives and this situation is ridiculous.
"I've been taking a walk. As it is my right to do. A good and normal thing. I really don't know why we're all here—," I say, completely genuinely.
That makes Edward break into laughter, "Christ, Piers, I'm going to kill you," he says, eyes watering he's laughing so hard.  "God I needed that."
Everyone else is staring at us in something like horror.
"What happened? Seriously," Edward asks, finally recovering himself.
"Oh. There was an attempt on my life. Adders are in my room in my bed, and when I pursued this man to at least ask what he'd seen he tried to kill me," I say.
"What." Edward stares at me, back to absolute disappointment. "You—didn't lead with that?"
"I mean he's dead now," I say, "And they were all witness to it, my wife and sister are up with the dead snakes now but we should check the other rooms."
"Piers, you just killed someone."
"Who was trying to kill me, that's legal. Right? I mean, it wasn't a duel," I say.
"Yes. I just have to pardon you. This is completely fine," Edward says, breathing shallowly.
He has the rest of the rooms searched. Apparently it was unique to me. Which is good nobody else was hurt. He's more concerned about the threat to my life than I am. We take...different interpretations of the events.
"How would putting snakes in bedroom even feel effective? Their entire problem with me is that I'm not in my bed I'm in yours! That's so significant to them how could they forget?" I ask.
"Why is that what you're worried about?" Edward asks.
"Doesn't it bother you? I mean, it's like bringing arms to Parliament when I, one man, am specifically not there. Who are they protecting themselves from? Who are they poisoning with adders in my bed when the fact that I am not in my bed is their specific problem with me," I say all this standing on Edward's bed, drinking a cup of wine.
"What are you doing up there?"
"Being tall and making a point—," I cut off as he just lifts me down and sets me in front of him. He's strong enough to simply do that.
"Stop trying to understand how they think. They don't," he says, kissing me gently, "All right? You're safe that's what matters. I'm keeping you safe."
I don't know who he says it for more. Myself or him.
But we both need to hear it. And he needs to believe it's true.
In Scotland we have something close to the peace that I knew in Ireland. Now the Earls and their wars cannot touch us. We're protected by borders, and our own casually raised armies. We're as free as at Langley to walk together. His staff and men are loyal, as is my household. There is no judgement when he puts his arm about me, or when we walk or ride together. And there's no wonder whose bed he goes to at night.
Isabella is with us. She too is more relaxed than in London, though of course we all are.
"He's so much happier that you're back," she says to me, customarily laconic.
"We've known each other a long time," I say, diplomatically.
Once again we spend hours together, and not me just following him in between meetings or to Parliament. Actually speaking to one another. I'm something like happy.
So that's when he chooses to tell me he has a child. We're on a long walk, standing just on this heath, looking at rising storm clouds.
"A son. Born in the spring of 1309," he says, "His name is Adam."
I stare at him.
"You weren't here. That's when you were in Ireland."
I continue to stare at him.
"What?" He asks.
"Who is she?" I ask. I did not know I was this jealous. I admittedly no longer have a coherent grasp of the date. But I am jealous.
"Joan, my blacksmith's girl. You knew her," he says.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask, folding my arms.
"You have a child," he says, annoyed now.
"Yes, I know. Who I told you of, also Alice and I have an arrangement I don't even lie with her now," I say. He knows that was never love, or even lust. An affair was exploratory, and mutually beneficial. And we like our daughter. "I have no shame for her either, I am proud of my daughter. I ask you again why didn't you tell me?"
"I already said. You weren't here," he says, arrogantly now.
"What?" I say, shaking my head.
"You were not here. If I told you—something like that. I was afraid, I thought—why would you come back?" He asks, and I realize there are tears in his eyes.
"You give me no credit, still?" I ask, just getting annoyed now because I need to be angry for two more minutes about this.
"I failed you! I told you I'd take care of you, and then I had to send you away, to bloody Ireland, I am king. I am king, Piers, and I couldn't keep one person—one person safe. I couldn't keep you safe. My country's tearing itself apart. I go over it night after night in my head and I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do I'm in hiding out of my own country to just to keep us together and I can't even do that I don't know if and when we can safely go home again. And you were gone. And I'd failed you again. And every single person who has ever loved me has left me why wouldn't you?" He asks, tears streaming down his face, "Why would you stay? I'm not your king if I can't even command them to let you stay in the country I—,"
"Stop," I take his hands, "Stop it. I don't care! I don't care if you're a good king."
"What?" He asks.
"I don't. I don't care if you're a good king. You can be the worst king, England has ever had. I will still stay. Because I love you. I love every version of you. I love you when you're watching them dig some stupid ditch. I love you when you're dragging me in some freezing cold lake in the middle of winter. I love you when you're drunk and angry and you won't listen to reason. I love you when you're arguing with me. I love you when you fuck up. Anything you do, anything that happens to us, doesn't change the fact that I love you. I fell in love with the lazy, entitled, stupid idiot who refused to come jousting with me, who taught me how much fun it is to go rowing in summer. Not because I'm infatuated with you or because I can't help it or I'm mad but because I decide, every single day, to love the best person I've ever met," I plead, putting my hands to his cheeks, "Do you hear me? I am the one who doesn't leave. I am the one who stays."
Tears stream down his face. I wrap my arms around him, tightly, and he sinks into my arms.
"I'm right here. I'm so sorry you were alone for so long. I'm right here," I say.
"Everyday I asked myself why you would come back. Why should you come back?" He whispers, putting a hand through my hair and studying my face.
"Because you. You. Not as king. Not as anything but yourself. You are worth it, all right? I don't know what is going to happen. But I do know that you're still going to be worthy of my love," I say, still holding his shoulders, "Do you hear me?"
"Promise me we'll make it this time," he sighs.
"I promise. They cannot break us," I say.
I have no idea what is coming.