Keeper of the Realm (Violent Delights Book 2)

Chapter 4 - January 1440

Edward of Woodstock

We arrived at the Tower of London not long before the Christmas Holiday. I and my small staff, by boat. It's meant to be me, Guillame, Aimee, and William, but Chanos invites himself along, citing clever things among them it being his chivalric duty to remain. I don't argue with him as I like his company and I'm far too tired. I begin to feel ill again on the trip over, and am near passing out by the time I've climbed the stairs to my room. I crawl into bed fully clothed saying, "I quite weary and will think quietly right here with my eyes closed."
As I fall asleep my last thought is that that definitely fooled absolutely no one.
It does not. When I wake there are physicians again. Wine and food are the best cures it seems, but Aimee is still precious with me and won't let me out of bed except to dine. I'm bored, with no minstrels and my friends all home. Simon and Bernard both went home to their families the Courtenays left weeks ago for Devon, and even Walter is home with Simon and their family. Chanos is alone there for my amusement, and when the others forbid me from going to mess with weapons in the yard, he sits and plays dice or cards with me for hours. Now and then chess but more often than not he'll tell me whatever gossip he picked up elsewhere in the Tower, namely from the prison side of it which he's ingratiated himself with.
And so our holiday passes quietly. I can write to my family so I do that, without revealing my location of course. I do include a few propaganda bits about being brave that my mother can use that's her New Year's present. My father's is that I want him to teach me how to joust. He really wants to do that. Like really wants to. One of my earliest memories is him putting me on the dogs or his shoulders with a toy lance. But I was too little before my mother said when I was perhaps ten. Now I'll be ten come June so I tell him I shan't try to learn till he comes home, and that yes I do want to learn because it looks fun not just because he wants me to. He'll probably like that.

Philippa of Hainult

"Edward please stop crying," I sigh. It's just after epiphany day. The children got to sleep mostly clutching new toys. We got them simple presents they're small enough to be content with that. Messengers came with word from Ned. So I was reading that while I awaited Edward's return. And I was enjoying myself, reading my son's letter. He's coyly reassuring of his good health, consuming the letter with mostly pleasantries. Then a little line saying he hopes I'll be able to play chess in my confinement. Which means he's done something. He's made his move. And so what is it, little Ned? What has he done that he thinks he'll allow me to make a good move? It's all I wanted for New Year and he knew it because he wrote that when I return we can play again. His game is getting rather good. I'll say it is sweet boy. It's a real pleasure to be able to train him, and watch him learn to be all that he can be.
I was ruminating on that, and mostly unconcerned for Edward to read the pages that Ned enclosed specifically for him. I glanced at them it looked nice and reassuring and I thought Edward would like that.
Now he's weeping.
"I can't find a code anywhere is it new? What is it?" I ask, sorting through the pages. He hasn't used any of the new codes.
"What?" Edward looks up, tears on his face. He's sitting on the edge of my bed has been weeping for some time, "Is that what you're doing?"
"Yes? Trying to find the code in our son's letter to find out what he said that would cause you to react in this manner because you couldn't answer but I can't find it quickly and I do want to know,," I say, holding up the pages, "Is the cypher on that page?" He's clutching one. "Can I have it then?"
"There isn't a —there's no secret code is that what you're looking for? Didn't you read it?" He asks, wiping his face with a hand.
"Yes I looked it over I didn't see anything important so I clearly need to read it again what is the code?" I ask.
"There isn't a code," he says, equally confused.
"Then what's the matter? He's clearly not ill look at his hand it's fine," I say.
"He asked me to teach him how to joust," Edward says.
I wait for more information because I did see that bit.
"And—?" I ask, "That's—we're going home you'll teach him of course."
"No asked me. He wants me to, he wants to spend time with me," he says, frowning.
"He loves you," I say. Ned's always been his father's little shadow. A sweet child yes but he's devoted to his father. Edward and I always spoiled him a bit, especially when he was little, so he's always been fairly clingy.
"Yes but he asked me. He says he wants to joust too," he says.
"I've feared that since I suspected I was carrying a boy it's well I'm happy for you go ahead I always assumed you would, from the first time I found out you sneaked off to do that like, weekly, I thought it'd be latent," I say, nodding, hand on my belly. Oh this one isn't kicking very much at all this mention of jousting maybe it is a girl or something sensible like that.
"Pippa I—my father banned jousting you know this. He didn't want me doing it didn't want me breaking my neck, I had to go in disguise I still do—,"
"I know you got back yesterday," I say. It's still ridiculously attractive to me when he comes home, smelling of sweat and horse, and crawls directly into my bed all bruised with other men's blood salty on his skin. It's probably how we got this child and at least two of the others.
"—and I'm thrilled you still find that attractive—,"
"Probably always will I know I pray for us both—,"
"So do I —no Pippa it's just—our son wants to break his neck, and he trusts me to tell me and wants to do it with me I—never would have done that with my father it's—after all this time, apart. I was afraid it'd—be like my father and I. We're the same song at different speeds we know each other but we can't talk," he says. We met his father last week. With the children. In a monastery it was short. He was like an older version of his son, weathered, taller than I envisioned, but eerily Ned has his same, steady grin. My son has this complete stranger's smile.
"Oh," I say, sitting down next to him.
"I wasn't ready—I didn't think I'd get to be here. Even after all this time. My mother and I. My father and I. None of it ever fit. So I don't believe it when it happens," he says.
"I understand," I say.
"You don't have to. It doesn't make sense I know to move me thus yes logically of course he does. I just don't believe I'll be worthy of it. Ever. Not when I wasn't for so long, of anything," he says, "My father said I was the worst son. That's still there. My mother said I'd lose the crown. That's there too. No matter what."
"I am right here. And I will not let them take your crown," I say, putting a hand to his cheek.
"This one's hard upon the last," he says, putting a hand to my huge belly. I shouldn't be due till hopefully April but I'm still getting bigger by the day it feels. As always I feel fine being pregnant, though that doesn't allay Edward's fears.
"This one is being good for it's mother and can't wait to join in the fun," I say, patting my belly. The baby wiggles a little. Doesn't kick badly at all just tries to squirm about as it runs out of room.
Edward sighs, leaning against me.
"We're well. I swear it. Your child is a very patient and polite guest," I say, smiling. It's true. His babies have yet to make me ill as some women suffer. They're polite if wriggly things. The girls were sweet and stayed respectably small, the boys so far had me waddling about by the time I'm six months gone. This one is no exception, as ever favoring its father's height. I don't care that I'm huge. I like having his children in me. Waiting for them to move, whispering to them, I like that it makes me look the queen, and it's a fine enough disguise for my true self. If I'm ever pregnant, with one of his babies in my arms, such a good mother, I can't be helping him rule. I can't be a threat. They don't ever think those two things can be true at once.
"Good, take care of your mother, I've got battles to fight," he says, kissing my belly.
"That you do," just as soon as we find them for you.