35 Days (Violent Delights Book 10)

Day 6: The siege, August 23, 1415

According to Edmund Mortimer

I don't really like meetings. I don't like participating in things, to be perfectly honest. I really don't. I know that's a part of being in the army but I'm not truly here but what I'd call 'choice'. And I don't like being home in England either. I'm married now that means I'm supposed to talk to this person occasionally. I shouldn't have gotten married but Henry had pissed me off. And sometimes when you're pissed off with your older brother figure father figure christ figure, you go and get married. To piss him off. And so now I am. Things sort of happen to me I'm not truly responsible for them.
Like this meeting. Henry called all of us in who are in some slight command, for a meeting which is me, both his brothers, John Holland, and Edward of York. Edward of York is the oldest of us but he likes to listen to Henry too for some reason. He's not a very out going person he likes his dogs and doing what Henry says and that's all. I haven't talked to him lately because one of the things that recently happened to me was that Henry happened to me and I'm not personally clear on the details but now Edward of York's brother and couple other people are no longer alive. So I don't feel bad but I'm sincerely hoping he'll take "Henry sometimes occurs" as an explanation for my behavior as well as I hope god does. My confessor says that's not an explanation but I think I'm right so I'm going to ask god. When I die. Likely due to someone, probably one specific person, named Henry.
And now Henry's called this meeting. And I have reason for concern because a day or so ago we caught a prisoner, a french priest, and Henry said turn all prisoners over to him but we keep forgetting then it has to look like we just caught him and it's an entire experience on my side of the camp and now I'll have to wait for days to do it because I'm not doing it now it'd look like I didn't forget which I did just not as long as I intend on pretending I forgot. I hope that's not what we're talking about I really do I don't want to die of Henry this early later maybe but I'm a little young for that yet. And this isn't even an offense that's really worth it.
"I brought you here to discuss camp policies that I don't see being adhered to as they should," Henry says, he's holding a list. I'm going to die that was a camp policy I'm dead.
"I did make all of these clear I'm asking for your effort to ensure that the polices are adhered to with the men. This is a holy war. First off. Swearing," Henry says, "Swearing is prohibited in camp."
I didn't know that. None of us remember that.
"Shit," I say.
"Fuck," John Holland says.
"Damn," Thomas says.
"Hell," Humphrey says.
"Christ," Edward says.
We all realize instantly what we did and cover our faces.
Henry stares at us with his withering gaze of utter disappointment.
"Mine wasn't as bad as theirs—," Thomas begins.
"Shut up Thomas," Henry growls.
We say nothing, all withering in his gaze.
"No swearing. No drunkenness. No prostitutes. We drove them out of camp, and gave them word if they were seen again their left arms would be broken. The men were drunk so we're watering the wine. They have been pillaging, eating raw fruit, and fishing in the rivers. They were told to bring supplies for three months. They are to eat that. These are simple rules that were laid out at the beginning. Why am I having to repeat myself?" Henry asks, staring at us all with obvious disappointment.
"So the swearing isn't new?" Thomas asks.
"No, it's not new. It was original," Henry says, quietly.
"Because I don't remember that at all swearing relaxes me—,"
"You can swear in private. Not among the men. We are meant to be an example," Henry growls, "Is that clear?"
"Yes, your majesty," we say, in unison.
"There have been several cases of illness. Remind the men to drink the ale, not river water. And quit from taking fruit from the orchards," Henry says.
We all nod, collective glad he didn't kill one of us as an example.
"Go. Get out."
We do not need to be told twice.