The Broken Crown

Chapter 13

“We fear an uprising.”

“That is a bit...”

“...of an overstatement?” Jonathan finished for him. “Right now, that may be, but trust me; I was born a baker’s son, and I know when the common people are displeased. It will not be long until they realize where the money went.”

“So what do you suggest?” It was Edward Delroy who spoke now. “We all know throwing money at the people won’t help.”

Clever boy, Thomas thought with amusement, only barely hiding a smirk. He looked at Raymond, who said, “That is far from what we are suggesting, although we need to give the people something. We believe a distraction would buy us a little time to sort the economics out.”

“And you do not believe the King’s army would serve for enough distraction?”

Jonathan’s anger flared then. He did have a temper, and his growing up outside of court had not taught him how to hide it the way the rest of the council members had. “The King’s army is made of commoners. Every single one of your soldiers was born of a common girl and, if you raged war against the people, they would be killing their own fathers, brothers and sons; destroying their own houses.”

“There was a time when soldiers were loyal to their king,” Sir Edward Delroy muttered to himself.

“Well, those days are over. Now, they are loyal to the highest bidder – but if the highest bidder begins pillaging cities and burning down fields, then they might turn from him just as well.”

“Besides, if we do not start thinking, then before long, the King will no longer be the highest bidder,” Thomas remarked while pouring himself a cup of wine. His mind might be beginning to feel slightly dizzied, but it was still sharper than Delroy’s.

Henri remained cool-headed. That was one thing Thomas envied about the eastern lord; whenever debates got heated, he managed to pack himself into a shell of silence and observation until the rest of the Council had made fools enough of themselves. “Then what, pray tell, do you propose?”

With a hidden smile, Jonathan explained. “Nothing out of the ordinary, really. It is not the first time that the rituals of royal marriages have been at an unsustainable cost for the Crown. That is why the tradition of carrying the newly-wedded Queen around the capital for all to see was invented; as a distraction from the real problems.

“Both Lucretia and His Grace, Raphael, believe that it would be best if we drew out this for a while longer,” Henri objected.

For a moment, Thomas let his eyes fall closed, frustrated by the man’s ignorance. There was no doubt in Thomas’ heart or mind that Raphael had no opinion whatsoever on the topic. However it would not do to call the King’s mother manipulative and the King himself indecisive – not now when they had already been indirectly accused of treason.

“What does it matter if Lucretia agrees?” Jonathan said, his voice slow and sly as it so often was. Pardon me for saying so, but she is no longer the Queen. Your daughter is.” When Henri tried to cut in, Jonathan continued blatantly. “Your daughter, Henri, except the people will not know that until you show them that she now wears the crown."

It was clear that Jonathan’s words had struck something within Henri. Loyal to the Crown he may be, but his daughter still meant something to him. And he had paid in abundance to have her seated on the throne. It did not take much more than a glance on the accounts of the Crown to see that there were inexplicable holes in its debt to the East; holes where Henri had let his old friend go easily.

“He is right,” Raymond said slowly, quietly. “Your daughter is no more a queen than I am a king in the people’s eyes, not until she has been properly presented.”