216 Days (Violent Delights Book 12)

Chapter 15: The siege according to the Bastard of Vaurus, December 6, 1421

"Well played, Henry," I breath, staring out at the smoke. "Well played."
I'm standing on the ramparts of Meaux's garrison. Watching as the world burns. Ever since the failed attempt on the garrison, we've been manned by a skeleton army. While Henry and his men ravage the country side. We have nowhere to run now. Nowhere to support us. We are an island, in a sea of his destruction. Quite the tantrum I must admit.
"He's killing them," Guy says.
"You think he'd stop if we surrendered?" I ask, dryly.
"My cousin is right," Denis sighs, "If we surrender now he'd accept, burn the Market, cut off our heads. And then go on about his pillaging."
"But we do no good here," Louis says. We're all leaning on the ramparts. Just watching the world burn around us.
"Oh we are. He'll come back to me," I say, tipping my head back to smile at them. "He won't go on. Knowing I'm still here. Refusing to yield."
"You can't know that," Louis says.
"Yes, I can. He is a bully."
"He's the King of England."
"And he is a common bully. And I've spent my whole life among bullies. This is a tantrum. He couldn't get in? He acts out, he acts out by murder. He thinks I'll feel guilty. We'll flee garrison and attack him and let him kill us. No. No. No. He doesn't understand. He does not get to win," I say, "He will never win. Not against me."
"They're dying because of us," Guy shakes his head.
"They would die anyway," I say.
"He's right. If we had fallen that night. If we surrendered, then Henry would go on about his way. He proved at Agincourt he will march his men through winter, he has no qualms about fighting through winter," Denis says, nodding to me a bit that he's on my side.
"It feels wrong to do nothing," Louis says.
"We are doing something. We are the bait. Haven't you ever hunted waterfowl?" I ask.
"Yes," Louis says.
"How long do you sit in a blind. Waiting for the birds? You wait. And you wait. It doesn't matter how long they'll come. He'll return," I say.
"We don't do him any good though. We're a small garrison, no captives worth anything, no artillery to take we have one cannon," Louis says.
"He's gonna say 'we have me' again and it's getting upsetting," Denis sighs.
"I wasn't going to—all right I was. I'll say this. We are a prize to be won. Do you think Henry is doing this because he wants France? No. He's doing it to win castles. To win sieges. He must be the man who breaks every single siege. That is why he does what he does. With his bride in tow he stopped to siege Melun for three months. Three months. He's clever enough, if he wanted France he could have had it. He doesn't France. He wants to hurt France," I say, looking back out at the clouds, "Tell me, Denis. If a man wants his woman to stay why does he come home and hit her? Surely that's beyond all logic why would she not run?"
Denis sighs. He knows why I say it. He knows what my father was like. "Because he wants to hurt her. He doesn't want her to love her or protect her as a man should. It makes him feel powerful."
I snap my fingers at Denis.
"So it makes him feel powerful to break us. Even if we're nothing. That is what you're betting on?" Guy asks, not questioning but more a confirmation. "He'll come back just to whack us around again?"
"Like a drunk on a Saturday night," I say, "Ready for confession come Sunday morning."
Louis sighs, "You could be right. You probably are right. But how can you bear to stand up here watching him burn it everyday?"
"It's for me. It would be rude not to," I say, leaning on the cold stone.
"And then he says things like that and jumps in rivers while on fire and it's hard to trust him," Louis says.
"I have to see it like he does. To him this is beautiful. It's all a game, just a game of chess. Knocking down pieces. I'll get him to tip the board. Just you wait. But for now? There's something glorious about it. I hang his spies in my tree. He burns my country down around me so I can taste the smoke. Such a courtship of death, isn't it?" I ask, watching as another pillar of smoke begins to rise. We're surrounded now.
"He'll keep talking. You won't feel better. Let's go check the watch. They fired on us last night," Guy says, sighing a little.
"You think I'm mad?" I ask, tipping my head almost completely over to look at them.
"I also think you have to be," Guy says. Then he follows Louis down the stairs.
"You know what I mean though?" I ask Denis.
"I do," he nods.
"When someone cares that much about you. Thinks of you that much, it has to be beautiful in its own way doesn't it? I mean everything to him now," I say, "Christmas will be here. He's not with his wife, or their child if it's born. He's with me. He's choosing me."
"You know people care about you, people can care about you. In ways that aren't—burning down half of France just to get your attention?" Denis asks.
"Can they? You've seen me. Perhaps this is all a creature like me is going to get," I say, focusing on the smoke as it mixes with the clouds. Testimonies to Henry's anger.
"I just mean care about you. I'm not talking about—the other. I mean, you don't have to give yourself to him."
"Who else is going to do it? I'm intriguing. I'm nothing. He can't stand for nothing to become his everything. He can't stand for a bastard, born inside a jail, to be the man to best him. He hates it. But he can't walk away," I laugh.
"Why was your mother in prison?" He didn't know that.
"She was starving. She broke back into the convent, she was going to be a nun you know, anyway she broken in, to steal some money for food. They let her out the next day when they found out she'd given birth," I say, tracing the lines in the rock, "She told me so I wouldn't steal anything. Look how well her morality worked out."
"Ah," Denis says, "You never told me that."
"It doesn't matter. She wouldn't be proud of it. Or of me I shouldn't imagine. The Bastard of Vaurus. Cruel Governor of Meaux. Not an epithet any woman likes for her son," I say.
"She'd be proud of what we're doing here. What you're doing. It's been—,"
"One thousand four hundred, and sixty hours. Sixty one days. Two months," I say, looking over at him.
"Two months. That's longer than we should have lasted. And I know you're right. About him. Every time but—,"
"I'm all right. I am all right."
"Don't let him eat you up. The same way you're eating him up."
"That may be inevitable," I say, tapping the stone.
"Just don't. Don't stay up here too long," he says, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder. He almost thinks better of it then does. I tip my head against his hand.
"I'll stay. It's all for me," I say, settling down to watch the fires burn. I have always loved fire. I hope Henry's having a pleasant time. I'm sure he is. He'd better be thinking of me.