The Boar (Violent Delights Book 16)

Chapter 1 - "1458 -1461 / The Boys"

Richard (eventual king of England)

Thunder cracks outside. I look up quickly from my reading then back down. On the floor before me are lined up my little wooden knights. I carefully push another one into place, then look back down at the little book. I'm done with my lessons so I get to read until someone comes and collects me. That is the rule. And today I'm reading King Arthur stories. I'm going to be a knight someday. I won't just have to read about adventures.
"He can't read, it just makes him happy to turn the pages," my nurse says, interrupting my thoughts.
"Well he's quiet. I don't see a problem?" My mother sighs. She is my mother but I don't usually see her. Because the King was cruel to my father. So I live with my aunt. I don't care there are books here my aunt lets me read them. She has sons of her own but they're all grown up. "It's better than George."
"You'll hear it in a moment—he can read some words can't you, Boar?" My aunt snaps her fingers.
"Yes, m'lady," I say, looking up a bit resentfully. I don't like being showed off like a dog, "That word's Arthur. And that one Gawain. I like figuring out more."
"I suppose if he's enjoying it. We didn't think he'd live that long," my mother says.
"I don't know why. I'm tough," I say, not looking up. I know it's cheek. I'm not supposed to talk back. But she comes around now and again and each time I don't recall her face. And they talk about how I'm youngest and might not have lived.  Of course I was meant to live.
"Shush, child, don't speak to your mother that way," the nurse says.
"Boar—sorry he only responds that now—," my aunt says.
"It doesn't matter," my mother says, staring at me.
"Boar, who do you want to be like when you get big?" My aunt asks.
"King Arthur, but I'm meant to say father," I say, chewing my lip.
"And?" My aunt prompts, "It's all right you won't get lashed this time."
"The old King Henry, because I'm going to take France," I say, rubbing my face with a fist.
My mother smacks my mouth for that. I crawl away, glaring.
"Where did he get that?"
"Old chroniclers my mother in law had or something, he got someone to read it to him," my aunt says, "Now he's stuck on it."
"Well take the book away," my mother says.
"We can't."
"I took it," I say, proud.
"He took it," she says.
"And I hid it," I say, still proud.
"And he hid it. Didn't you, Boar? That's thieving? What's your prayer book you think you can read, say about that eh?" My aunt asks.
"It's not thieving as it's still in your house you not knowing where it is doesn't make it thieving," I say, chewing my lip.
"Should have known better than to name this one Richard," my mother breaths, disappointment in her clear eyes as she looks me up and down, "Oh well. His father's asking if he's strong."
"He's plenty strong. And getting into mischief," my aunt says, "Stop sitting like that. Sit up straight."
I obey, shifting a little and glaring, still chewing my lip. I want to play with my toy soldiers. I look at the fire then take a breath, "Father wants France doesn't he? That's what George said. I'll go."
"I'm sure you would," my aunt says.
"Where's George?" My mother asks. She likes George better than me. I think it's because she thought I'd die.
"Outside playing. This one could be too he wanted to look at his toys and that book. One of these days the staff will find the one he stole," my aunt says.
"It's still in your house. Why can't I talk about the old King anyway, when Father wants France?" I ask.
"Do you even know where France is, child?" My mother scoffs.
I nod, hard, "I've seen it on a map."
"Course you have. Why don't you go play with George, Boar?"
"George is cross with me," I say. George tried to take my book and get me in trouble.
"He bit George the other day, they fight like cats and dogs," my aunt says.
"I'm so sorry," my mother sighs, "Perhaps after this—we can at least come home."
"They're no trouble. It's good to have little boys back in the house. Even if they are naughty things, eh Boar? The nurse told your mum you had your dogs in the bed again," my aunt says, amused.
"I haven't broken as many rules as George. Just the book ones. And the dogs ones," I say, biting my lip.
"Stop chewing on your own face like that. Here, let me look at you," my mother says, putting her hands on my shoulders, making me stand up. I look down at a few of my toy soldiers she upset. "There we are. You always were a little thing."
"I'm tough," I say, flatly. I know I'm not as strong as George. So I have to be tough. "Did father say if I can be a knight?"
"Oh child, I decide your fate. And you know you love your books," she says, putting a hand through my hair, she looks up at my aunt, "His father and I said we'd commit him to the church. Get him off your hands. But if he's strong enough and he'll live there's no need."
"No, he tussles with the best of them, he'll be fine," my aunt says.
"He can have proper lessons with his brothers," my mother says, giving me a good squeeze, "You are a good boy aren't you?"
I nod.
"No, no little boys can be properly good," she says, kissing my forehead, "Now give back whatever you took. And mind your aunt. You're lucky she's well with you staying here."
"Yes lady mother," I nod, quietly.
"Do you promise?"
"I promise," I whisper.
I will give it back. Eventually. It is mine it should be mine no one else is reading it. And I want to learn how to read it. I will be a great warrior someday.