Henry felt the irritation boil up inside him as he waited for Jaime to pick up new training swords from their proper place. It was as if each day a bit of his easygoing demeanour, which had been a layer of protection against the irritants of court life, was beginning to erode. He waited in the middle of their pitch, his hands on his hips, and sought the eyes of the so-called “friends” that had brought him. Charlie, that one-eyed weasel. Fairfax, the pervert. Henri, that slimy Massouric piece of work calling himself a king. His own squire was not even a man.

When he looked about in boredom, he noticed that his Massouric namesake was looking back at him. Henry felt himself wanting to make a face, but stopped himself short.

Henri snickered all of a sudden. ‘Have you noticed yet that your hairline’s receding?’ he asked.

As reflex, Henry lay his hand on his forehead.

‘Yeah,’ Henri continued. ‘You probably don’t feel it yet, but it’s because of wearing those helmets to joust.’

It was Fairfax who responded before Henry could. ‘Come, now,’ he said. ‘Henry’s not getting younger, you shouldn’t make such a fuss. Perhaps when you’re his age, you’ll be far less lucky.’

His age? Henry frowned. He had never seen Henri or Fairfax as younger than him. He had been nineteen, close to the following birthday, when he had ended up by accident in Queen Katherine’s retinue, following their years of camaraderie in Dolcotshire. He quickly counted the summers. He was twenty-six. Had it really been that long? Had Walter been arrested over a year ago already?

He was unmarried, and he wondered at what age his popularity would fade. At what age he would no longer be the golden boy of the joust, at what age he would have to give it up if he wanted to remain unbeaten. It was far sooner than he thought before.

‘I’m only two years older than him,’ he bit.

At that point, Jaime came back carrying wooden swords in her arms, running down the small slope, her cropped blonde hair bouncing in the wind and her steps. She was smiling: Jaime was far away from home as well, but for her, home was not the duchy of Dolcotshire where she ran the show the way that it was for Henry, it was in the hands of the charity of the church. Jaime was a nun’s bastard.

‘Sorry, gentlemen,’ she began. ‘I got held up.’

Henri looked at his namesake in anticipation. Fairfax and Charlie took a sword each, but Henry kept his arms at his sides.

‘With what?’ he barked. ‘You got held up with what?’

His words spat themselves out with frustration that he did not recognise within himself, and it seemed that Jaime did not recognise it in him either by the way she slowly blinked and backed away a little, frowning her pale blonde brows.

‘I… I ran into Lady Katherine,’ she said. ‘By the stables. She was getting ready to ride out with a few of the ladies. Lady Constance, Lady Margot, Lady Grace, Lady Diane. Some others.’

Henry looked her up and down, lingering on the delicate curve of her hip, and moving down to her beanpole legs. ‘So?’ he asked. ‘Are you a lady-in-waiting or are you a squire?’

‘A squire,’ she answered sharply. ‘I’m sorry, she needed my help. Isn’t it your duty too, to assist Her Majesty? Why is it that you must berate me for doing your duty?’

Jaime had been but a girl when she came into Henry’s care. He had mistaken her for a boy initially, and she had much enjoyed that, though the older she got, the more she ingratiated herself with the ladies-in-waiting, and the less she could pass as a young lad, no matter how short she kept her hair cropped.

‘You think that’s my job?’ he huffed indignantly. ‘Out of my sight.’

‘Sir Henry,’ she protested.

Fairfax frowned all of a sudden. ‘Lady Diane?’ he asked, his Otterdon accent in Ilworthian far thicker than it was in Massouric, ‘Lady Katherine is out hunting with her?’

Jaime nodded dutifully.

Fairfax snorted. ‘Diane left court three weeks ago. You bullshit.’

‘Well, she looked like…’ Jaime began.

Henry groaned and threw his gauntlets off of him, turning on his heels and headed off. Jaime struggled to keep up with him, calling out his name, stomping in the high grass, until a few steps into the meadow, Henry halted.

‘I said: out of my sight,’ he said once again calmly. ‘Before I send you back to that shithole where you belong.’

‘Henry, what’s the matter?’ she whispered. ‘They cannot eavesdrop here — you can drop the act.’

Henry balled his fists and felt his face redden, with the epicentre of the furious heat just below his nose, where he felt his tissue tingle with great agitation. He looked upon Jaime. Her face was placid, calm enough to be an insult to him, and the wind ruffled her hair like it did the awns of wheat.

‘Act?’ he asked after a moment’s deliberation.

Jaime grimaced. ‘You’ve not been the same since Walter left,’ she said.

Henry felt himself come undone slightly, and sighed, hoping that the air that had poisoned his mind would come out with his breath. ‘I don’t know…’ he began.

‘Hullo-ooo?’ resounded Fairfax’s voice over the plain as he ran over to the pair of Ilworthians.

He padded over to them through the high grass, awkwardly stomping down with his elegant little shoes on his spindly legs. ‘The king is getting bored,’ he said.

Henry scoffed. ‘Is he? Shouldn’t he come tell us that himself? We do not answer to the King of Massouron, and certainly not to Rob Fairfax.’

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‘You’re a sorry excuse for a knight, all you do is quench your thirst on ale and quench your sorrows with women,’ he said. ‘Least you can do is entertain the king now you Ilworthian lot have to be in our presence. You and your whore queen and your snake councillors.’

It seemed to Fairfax that the person Henry was, briefly stopped shimmering through in the gloss of his eye or the twitch of his mouth. The very next moment, the knight’s fist beat against his skull.

----------------------------------------

Though he could not imagine regretting what he had done, and hearing Fairfax scream out in pain was still a pleasant ring in his ear, Henry knew he would have to pay for it somehow. He was asked to appear before Harcourt and Richard later that afternoon, who received him wearing their uniforms and carrying their insignia as if they did not bet bags of gold on the jousting champion or did not drunkenly sing with him on occasion.

Henry entered the chancellery hesitantly, wearing a bloodied gambeson, breeches and riding boots, his hair in his face in order to hide the potential beginnings of the receding hairline that had been the catalyst of the whole ordeal. Hands behind his back, a sorry shuffle in his walk.

Harcourt gave him a long, cold stare, while Richard hid some amusement behind his diplomatic veneer. It was a long-standing theory of Henry’s, that Richard had been a rowdy young man in his youth as well.

‘First of all,’ Henry said as he sat down, ‘I just want both of you to know that he called you snake councillors, and he called Katherine a whore queen.’

‘It is the Otterdon way to speak so of Courtenays and their allies,’ Richard said at first, having oppressed Harcourt with his gaze so that he may have the first word. ‘Back in the day, at least they had the decency of speaking unintelligibly so we could not understand. Unfortunately, they have evolved to speak our tongue. That leaves us with the duty to forgive them for their idiocy.’

‘What Lord Milden Cross means to say is that Lord Fairfax speaks ill of us for he is taught to,’ Harcourt interjected. ‘We’d prefer to keep you out of more trouble. You’ve seen how freely the poison flows around here.’

‘Yes,’ said Henry. ‘Order me toothless. You all know this court situation has all but castrated me — you might as well finish the job by ordering me mute, deaf and cut off both my hands while you’re at it.’

Richard clicked his tongue. ‘For a man most notable for the amount of women that claim that he sired their bastard child, you sure do speak much of being castrated,’ he said. ‘We are serious, Henry. You know not of what you speak.’

‘Can I ask you something?’ Henry asked, hunched over on his chair. ‘Something that has been bothering me, actually.’

Richard scoffed and held up his hands. ‘Why not?’ he asked.

Even Harcourt smiled.

‘What happened to Walter, really?’ he asked. ‘Did he conspire with Lord William?’

The smile on Harcourt’s face was quickly lost. ‘Walter is well, if you must know. I have received information from a trusted source that he is well.’

Henry remained quiet, and instead begged Richard with his eyes. Richard, in turn, faced Harcourt. ‘He won’t say a thing,’ Richard said of Henry. ‘I don’t believe he would.’

‘So?’ asked Harcourt.

Richard again looked at Henry pointedly, steepled his fingers and raised his brows. ‘What’s the angle? What must you know and why must you know it?’

Henry’s heart ached when he thought of Walter. There were memories embedded in him of the early days of his life at Norbury Castle, riding out with Walter, Grace and Katherine. When he thought of the sun of that first summer coming down through the oak and sycamore, the sunlight was as potent as the first time he saw it, even if it only existed behind his eyes these days.

‘The boy was like a brother to me,’ he said finally, his voice gravelly and cracking. ‘And I know Kathy loved him too. The real deal.’

Richard held his gaze, and some pity — acted or not — danced on his expressionless face. ‘You weren’t jealous of that?’ he asked. ‘Of Lady Katherine’s love of him — purported love of him, I mean.’

‘Sure,’ said Henry. ‘I would not have been here if I did not wish to be in her presence, but I would not want to hurt those I care for. She’s someone I care for. If you must know, there is little left of the Dolcotshire prioress I got to know. I’m not big into intimidating monarchs. She stands by me and I stand by her, whether that be as favourite or simply as champion. But Walter… the boy was innocent. I don’t blame him a second for hurting me. It was simple misfortune that did it. I probably had it coming.’

‘Hm,’ said Richard. ‘A knight out of love. Very theatrical.’

‘I’m getting older,’ Henry answered proudly.

‘It is what it is, and it is better than the alternative,’ said Richard, chuckling. ‘And your squire? She’s not your type?’

Henry made a disturbed face and laughed. ‘No,’ he said. ‘She is seventeen summers old, which means she was thirteen when we met. You cannot meet your future wife when she is a child, Richard. It may be the nobleman’s way, but it is not mine. Besides, I have a suspicion that Jaime has great plans already of becoming a famous knight… somehow.’

‘I see. As to Walter, I will indulge you a little. He has not conspired against us and there will be no action taken to arrest him if he stays out of our sight. There is no conspiracy one way or the other.’ Richard scraped his throat and sat back in his chair. ‘It has helped Her Majesty greatly with staying interested in her fiancé that there is one favourite fewer begging for her attention. Well, if we are to count your change of tune… two fewer. Walter is well. Now, with what you just did to Robert Fairfax, dear Henry, will you be well?’

‘Send me back if you must,’ said Henry dryly. ‘Would that soothe the trouble?’

Harcourt declared: ‘You are so lucky to have timed this incident so well with the arrival of the first royal Gineforts to Souchon. If Louise has even been informed of this at all, she has likely waved it off. Perhaps good to know for you, I don’t believe many care for Fairfax but King Henri. Consider this a dress rehearsal for the next time you find yourself seething in his presence.’

Richard’s eyes darted around mischievously. ‘Or we will have to return you to your Lord Gregory,’ he added with grave tone. ‘As I’ve been given the impression that Her Majesty shall not protest.’

Henry folded his hands together in his lap, his left still bloodied with Fairfax’ blood, and looked down upon them with the sorrow of the last half a decade spent on the side of a woman whom he no longer related to, who rarely asked for his presence, and who was on the precipice of an alliance that would bind her to a country, residence and man that Henry utterly despised.

‘I’m afraid not,’ he said solemnly. ‘It appears that my presence has become unnecessary, and the only use I have is to entertain noblemen who despise me.’

----------------------------------------

As only few men whistled so loudly and sharply, Richard knew it was Theo who was seeking his attention as he strode down the hallway. He turned, offered a fraudulent grin, and crossed his arms before him. ‘If it isn’t the Secretary of State,’ he said. ‘Theodore.’

Theo caught up to him, eyeing the guards as he did. For a second, the mysterious nature of his gaze made Richard think that Theo was about to arrest him, but the order never came from his sly mouth.

‘Haven’t seen you in a while,’ said Theo, ‘I was wondering if you had any leads on the poison incident during the banquet. The cooks were arrested but they haven’t said much of use.’

Richard huffed and felt his heartbeat quicken. ‘If no missive has been sent your way, you may be sure I have nothing more to say,’ he said offhandedly. ‘It is a purely Massouric incident. The only way in which we were involved, is that we were present. There is little for us to investigate.’

‘Isn’t there?’ Theo asked. ‘Interesting. You’d think you would value the life of your queen more.’

‘Funny you should say that,’ said Richard. ‘Your queen sat next to mine.’

Theo grinned. ‘We have a king, Lord Milden Cross. Soon we shall share the same queen.’

Richard carefully lay his arm over Theo’s shoulder, making sure to push on the side where he still had splinters of the bullet wedged in his tissue. ‘My bad, old pal,’ he mused, ‘Of course I’d never assume Lady Louise still rules from behind the crown. I’d be silly to say that — Lady Louise would not have stood for this.’

Theo’s eyes glazed over somewhat, sorry that he had asked at all. Things had not been the same since the Ilworthians left. It seemed to Theo that Richard was fully aware of the origin of the poison after all — and unfortunately the blame was not on the Sbaian who was responsible for its procurement.