216 Days (Violent Delights Book 12)

Chapter 11: The siege according to King Henry of England October 17, 1421

"Ha. He's going for a walk. I knew it, he didn't want her either," I say, standing on top of the Abby, looking down at Meaux across the Marne.
"Yes, you're very smart," Richard, his back to Meaux, intentionally ignoring my observations. The Bastard is walking through the market, that big dog is following him again. Big black or brown dog, he wears a dark cloak as well but it's not even fine wool from the look of it.
"You're just pouting because nobody ever sent you a prostitute," I predict.
"You did send me a prostitute!" Indignant, probably glaring at me.
"Oh, so I did. I forgot that," I laugh.
"Yes. You're very funny. Such a shame my MOTHER also did not find you very funny."
"You also think I'm very funny."
"Yes, yes I do. And I have seen the humor in the situation now that it is no longer happening. I am just saying sending a prostitute to my actual home where my mother and younger sisters live. Was not as funny as you think it was."
"Yes it was, actually," I laugh. That was hilarious. He was furious for a week. His mother tore him up and down. Me pointing out that she completely forgot about inquiring about what he was going to France for was not helpful, apparently.
"Hm, yes I realize you think so. How's your Bastard doing?"
"He's in the Market, just prowling like he does, he changes his route, but he's predictable as an alley cat—he's not mine," I clarify, as I realize his choice of words.
"You've been watching him all day, and talking about him. You didn't need to ask her what he looked like."
"You jealous?"
"I'm saying he's out walking because he knew you'd be looking. He's playing this as much as we are."
"I am," I snarl, "You're not here anymore."
"Yet you're still talking to me."
"No, I'm not," I say, staring out at the Market.
"Fine, don't talk to me. See what I care. I'll wander around the Abby. Commune with my people."
"I had them turned out they made too much noise, and because you do not deserve that level of comfort. Anyway, they can't see you considering you aren't really here."
"Doesn't mean I can't haunt them though. Is that man down there really that fascinating to you?"
"He's amusing so far," because he thinks he can shake me, "Stupid of him to wander around now. Now I know he sent the girl away."
"Unless he wanted you to know. As I said before."
"Fine, I'll humor you as you're dead. Why would he want me to know?" I ask, glancing over at him.
"To lure you in. He wants you to watch him so he gives you something to watch. He knew you'd be looking so he's there. It's all a trick. This is his city. He is a man walking to his death he knows it. And in doing so he has all the time in the world. He is waiting for death so he has nothing to lose. You have a kingdom a wife soon a child. You have everything to lose. He does not. That makes him so incredibly dangerous. He can gamble anything. And he will. Stop letting him write the rules to this game," Richard says, tapping my shoulder.
"He isn't. He's a pathetic little Frenchman hemmed in from four sides. I am letting him think he's toying with me," I say.
"And yet you looked when he wanted you to."
"You're jealous."
"I'm right."
"You're jealous I'm having a fine time of this. Without you. You'd love to be here."
"Yes, I'd sooner not be dead. I'd also sooner not have to spend my afterlife watching you duel with this french bastard who is not worthy of your time," he says.
"There you're wrong. He's quite worthy of my time. And we're just getting started. I will break him. I will ruin him. And he will learn why he does not belong in a game with a king," I say, going back to looking out at Meaux.
"Don't let him win. Don't you dare let him win. And if he has half an idea what your stupid pride will lead you to do, then he will grasp onto it," Richard says, stepping closer to me.
"Footsteps," I say.
"One more time it is YOU has to stop talking not me. I exist only in your head now. I mean nothing to them, but everything to you."
"My lord," Jack walks up the stairs.
"Yes?" I turn.
"You said to report to you when we had any more dead?" Jack says.
"Yes and?" I ask.
"Five more this afternoon," he says, shifting a bit, "Disease."
"And where are they?"
"Still in the camps. I just got the reports and came to you."
"Well go get them out of the camps and throw them in the Marne, that's what it's there for," I say, "Have Arthur help you."
"I had him digging graves for them."
"Then why the devil did you just say they're in the camps?"
"That is where they are. They're not in graves yet."
"This army's common sense was interred with my bones," Richard says, hands over his face. I whip my hand back to put it behind my back and hit him as hard as I can in the gut. He moans a little despite being dead because he's dramatic.
"Forget graves, it's a waste of everyone's energy. Just throw them in the Marne."
"Should I have Arthur do something else then?"
"No, leave him having the graves dug I did just say it was a waste of energy. Please try to follow, Jack."
"Oh. Right. So throw the bodies in the Marne—,"
"Yes, have the bodies thrown in the Marne. Go," I say, turning back to look out. His footsteps retreat.
"You can't just throw the dead in the Marne."
"Yes. Yes I can. I can do anything I want. And you're dead now so you just have to watch me."
"That's cruel."
"Yes I am. And you're dead. If you wanted me to do something other than be cruel to you should have done something other than died."
"I don't like it either."
"Well, I like it less. So help me. Or go away."
He says nothing else. And when I lower the spyglass again, I am alone on the roof.