216 Days (Violent Delights Book 12)

Chapter 24: The siege according to Catherine of Valois, December 24, 1421

Christmas is upon us. I'm still technically in my confinement but nobody cares. And my servants bring me new dresses. My relatively small allowance permits them, and I feel much more myself. This isn't home. Or anything like it. But I can find the energy to force myself to feel happy at least for a while.
Our little prince is as temperamental as ever. He likes his Maggie's arms but no one else's really. Including mine. That's fine. I don't want to hold him. I don't really care to look at him. I get headaches every other day. My ladies tell me it's having so recently given birth. I think it's this damn island.
I learn something about myself. I have no self control and absolutely no idea what is good for me. I told the house staff that I want Owen and his fucking smile reassigned to guarding my and the baby's rooms and I didn't want to talk about it. Yes. I also am disappointed in me. But I want a few simple pleasures. And he's young and I'm fond of his neck and shoulders they're just lovely to look on. And he dares to look at my face and smile at me, so so quickly, and it makes me feel real. Henry made me feel like a statue. I want Owen to keep looking at me. So I get him assigned up here.  My ladies know and are fully supportive of any knight I find pretty being put where I like. We stick together. I know little of England (by design), but I'm sure I'm neither the first or last young queen left alone in these halls while her warlike husband is in some ditch in France.
Christmas is to be a quiet affair. The palace staff were quite willing to put on a small feast for us who remain, and I think if anything they were pleased to have dancing and music and the like and not have to bring in any entertainment. I really do just want us all to enjoy ourselves. I do not like it here, but I also do not want to punish them. They've all been kind, mostly, and I'm the enemy queen and they still have treated me with kindness.
A few days before Christmas Henry's brother informs us he's coming. This sounds rude but it's my preferred of Henry's brothers. Nearly his brother's height, but with a temperament much less like an adder and more like an actual person. His name, like half the men in England, is John. And he was at my coronation dinner and all that, and when Henry wasn't around (this was often), he directed John to come and stay by me. This sounds cruel, but I appreciated it I hate crowds and all of them babbling in English, and John proved as steady as his brother for a solid arm to lean on and guide me about. And he's always been kind enough to me with our few dealings, offering to get me a drink, or telling me something inscrutable about someone that he finds funny. Point being, I don't mind him as much as I expected to.
I'm down with a headache when he arrives, which is late in the evening. I should probably go greet him. But it's been made fairly clear (by Henry) that I'm essentially a prisoner here. I have no real duties. He expects little of me. I prefer to keep to myself so I don't fully mind that. However it means I don't feel obligated to go greet his brother. His brother grew up in this castle; it's more his than mine.
When I feel better the ladies tell me he's meeting his nephew. I'm fine with that, though I do fear that the little prince will make a poor impression. He doesn't currently let anyone but possibly Maggie hold him and to be honest he screams about half the time for her as well. She just doesn't mind so he settles down faster.
When I reach the nursery sure enough the small English traitor baby is completely content in his uncle's arms.
"Your ladyship, you look lovely as ever," John beams. He's like a Henry with a conscience. Soft brown eyes, bit longer hair than his brother and not quite as tall though he's still a bear of a man. Currently cradling his nephew in the crook of one arm. The sullen prince looks up at his uncle through big blue eyes, sucking on his fist, perfectly calm. Oh, of course he likes men. Goddamn it, Henry.
"It's good to see you, John," I say, feeling myself actually smile.
"Your ladyship," another man, this one with a near incomprehensible accent, is lurking in the corner of the room. He bows.
"Yes, James came with me, don't let us disturb. I wanted to meet my nephew," John says, good naturedly, "Little Harry's been terrorizing his nurses I hear. Got no army to lead yet and no men to order about, of course you like a bit of chaos."
"Yes that is, exactly what's happening," one of you could have warned me it's inherited with all of you. I mean, there are three brothers and they're about equally terrible. This one is best, but still he's not like, a good man. "Ah why is—James—here?"
"Oh, James is our guest."
"Yes, I'm a guest," James bows quickly again. He's got a winning smile and he's full of words. I just don't understand them. I think he's speaking English. He was at my coronation. Henry did not tell me who he was. Humphrey, Henry's other brother, did but he's mean and talks quickly so I didn't fully get it.
"We're in London for a few weeks, business of Henry's, before we go join him," John explains, quite at ease with his nephew situated in his arms, "I was just telling the little chap about the siege his dad's on. Got all four big cannons set up. City should fall before the new year."
"What city?" I ask. I knew he was warring in France, but I don't recall where.
"Meaux, they've been there since October," John says, cheerfully.
"Meaux has not fallen?" I ask, feeling my breath catch. Meaux is one of my brother's last strong holds. The hope was that I draw Henry away from there. But. I was sure it had fallen by now and my brother fled? "That's nearly three months?"
"Yes, we bombard them with fire day and night. I was telling Prince Harry. Probably why he's cross, knows his dad's off having fun without him this time," John says.
"Probably," yes, probably, sadistic creatures. Meaux. I've seen it once. A beautiful city on the Marne. The defenders? I know the governor was one of the Vaurus' bastards, my mother spoke of him. I don't know whose, I've met a couple of Vaurus' but it was odd my brother had let him be made governor. She said he was quite pretty, but did his job well so that was why he'd been given the command. I know others who were of noble birth thought ill of it. And we knew Charles had control of the city she thought they'd protect him all right. But how have they not fallen? It is them Henry is so enthralled by that he cannot come home to us? So it is. I say a quiet prayer for those poor men. Surely Henry will destroy them.
"I'm cross his dad is off having fun without us. Honestly. He'd better still be sieging by the time we arrive. Or better yet have found another one," James says, idly, looking out the window. The nurses skirt away from him like he's a rabid dog.
"Oh, Kate, I brought Anne Stafford for you—you know she's our Edmund's wife? You met her at the coronation? No? Anyway she's written to me she's bored what with our Edmund off with the king so I didn't know what to do with that then it occurred to me that you're a woman and she's a woman so she might like to come here. Anyway, she came up as well," John says, waving a hand at me. It's worth noting that every single one of the brothers is a blindingly brilliant, empathetic, kind human being, for about two minutes everyday. Those two minutes are not consecutive. The rest of the time they are very stupid, and poorly resemble people with emotions and feelings and their primary interest is setting things on fire and finding something to set on fire. I also do not know why I expect my infant to be anything like normal.
"Thank you," I nod, "I'm sure I'll enjoy that."
I do not expect to enjoy that. But I do in fact. Anne Stafford is a shrewd woman, clever, with black hair and soft grey eyes. She has a sweet smile but is clearly not simpering. She nods to the men and then immediately takes my arm as we go in to dinner.
"I'm ever so glad to see you well after having the baby," she says, petting my arm. She speaks french quite fluently which is a relief. "You must miss home. Pretend we're speaking of fashions and our love for our husbands but tell me everything. We haven't long."
"I do miss home. I confess everything is something of a blur since I came here to England. Edmund is your husband correct?" I ask. Yes, John said that. John is not overly accurate with information. At my coronation he was telling me who people were and James corrected him every other time. I didn't understand what James said, which made it worse.
"Yes, black hair. Follows your husband around like a puppy. Not the stupid sweet looking one who also follows your husband around like a puppy. The little somewhat mean looking one. That's the one I'm married to, but they both belong to me. I need them both, I have different moods," she says, twirling a hand as though to elaborate.
I nearly laugh at this description of her husband.
"The stupid sweet looking one is the Duke of Exeter to make things confusing your husband decided to call him Jack which isn't his name his name's John just like brother number two. I do not recommend differentiating between them it really isn't worth the energy they're about alike," she sighs.
Talking to her is like talking to my mother. She talks very plainly about all of them.
"I've been dying to come up but John's in charge and he doesn't have the attention span to read through the letters and answer them. I was quite worried about you up here having the baby then I found out the king had left so I thought 'well she'll be all right'," she says.
I do laugh then, "Yes. I am getting better now."
"Good. Plenty of lovely young knights about. Of the noble men I can tell you which ones to skip, it's going to be most of them honestly," she says.
"Are you and I the only wives? Of Henry's inner circle?" I ask.
"Mhmm, and that's accidental. The other brothers are unwed, and Exeter's unmarried. You, my dear came with a crown, and I was a business proposition of Edmund's. He needed money and I didn't want to marry anyone who would be about that much," she says, dismissively.
"Are they all—," all I have is 'like that' but I don't want to say that out loud.
"Yes. Yes they are. No idea why. I personally blame your husband, but I've no proof of that I also don't care to think about them too much," she says.
"I have to," I say.
"No, you really don't. Look, I'm sure you got sent here with some great aspirations of mending fencing and the like. And let me guess your mother told you to please him and keep him in your bed and out of war? And other things that might work on other men?" She asks, as we walk the quiet hall. It's nearly dinner. We'll be early.
"Something of that kind," I say, nodding.
"Of course. That's what we're supposed to do. Don't. Your husband is a power unto himself. He destroys things that get in his way. And it's not worth it. You're not going to save France by being his blushing flower wife," she says.
"It very nearly has destroyed me," I say, thinking of the child upstairs. And this miserable castle, "I hate it here."
"Let me give you some advice: they think themselves too noble to kill a woman. We can do anything. They can't kill us. So do whatever it is you need to do to get away from him. Or you won't survive. And you're worth more than he is," she says.
"You don't even know me," I say.
"No. But I do know him. I've known him for years. And I know you are not going to win. You may think you will. But you'll be the one who is broken in the end. Because even once they're gone. You're left with nightmares. Don't let him do that. Do whatever it takes to be free," she says.
"Are you offering to help me?" I ask. I don't know what to even do. I can't get away from here.
"I'm offering to say I had no idea what was going on when questioned. I have my own freedom. I have Edmund and however many of his friends I like if I like. I usually don't," she says, examining her fingernails. "But that's my freedom. I'm not in your situation. I chose this as my way out of a worse marriage. You're captive."
"Yes I am," I say, softly. And I have no idea how to be free.
"Do whatever it takes. Don't look back. And use them. They are strong but they think we are weak, and stupid. Use them to get what you want. It's how we must survive," she says, squeezing my arm one last time. All with a pretty smile painted on her face. She has no children. And she has this all figured out. I was raised to do this? Why don't I have this all figured out?
And why does every choice I seem to make so much harder on myself?
Case in point.
Dinner is a mostly quiet feast. Everyone quiets for my entrance which I'm grateful of. I don't like the noise.
John and James ("they sound like bible books let's all say a prayer tomorrow there's no book of Henry for he'd love it" Anne Stafford whispers to me, I nearly laugh), anyway, John and James, they are surprisingly on board with the servants all dining with us and being the primary entertainment, encouraging them to dance as they wish, and calling for music. I'm secretly glad because someone needed to and I didn't want to. Anne Stafford makes James dance with her. They laugh about this and it does not seem to be an uncommon arrangement. The men, for their part, do not flirt with any of my girls, which I appreciate. John instead makes a point of dancing with all the older house maids, who blush and laugh at him when he very formally asks them to dance.
I find myself laughing and enjoying the crowd. I do not like a crowd or a party usually. When I was little and we'd be brought, Charles and I would hide beneath the tables and look at the feet of the party goers, giggling as we talked about how silly their shoes looked. When I was older and forced to dance I'd always hate it the whole time. But my fortuitously absent husband means I don't have to dance with anyone. John checks on me he's quite attentive, but only cordial. Doing his duty to his brother's wife. But there might actually be some kindness in his eyes.
Soon one of the house masters has rounded up a set of the staff and knights, claiming they are Welsh? Like that is not a part of England? I had heard the word but like York or  Lancaster anywhere else they talk about. Apparently not they are acting as though it's different. Owen is among them. But he speaks English?
"Couple hundred years ago Wales was its own country, like your people. Your husband burned it down once," Anne Stafford is informative. If blunt.
The Welsh staff are cajoled into singing and dancing for us. They deliberate among themselves then settle on some commonly known number. At John and James' encouragement they sing in Welsh as well.
Owen dances with them. He's three from the back. But my eyes are on him. After a moment his eyes meet mine. And they do not break their gaze as they normally would. Instead he smiles his damn smile. Every time he turns or flicks his head, he turns it right back and his gaze is back with mine. I feel like anyone can see it. But it's just his cool blue gaze, focusing on me. Not afraid to look at me because I'm queen. Or Henry's property. Like I'm a pretty girl across the room he wants to flirt with. Like I'm anyone.
I suppose they dance well. It's not like the French court, but they're all laughing. And I find I don't mind at all. We're having a good time. They are having a good time. And Owen shifts back into the crowd as others come forth to dance. I watch him. And he raises his head again, eyes locking with mine. And he smiles a little, then ducks his head. Shaking it. He reaches up to rub the smile from his face but cannot. His cheeks are a bit red. He puts both hands to his face and drags them down. Then he just shakes his head a little, unable to stop grinning like a fool. And I am so glad I saw it. Even if I am going to do nothing. And it means nothing. But it's Christmas and a pretty boy smiled for me. If that's all I get, it may be enough yet.