The Boar (Violent Delights Book 16)

Chapter 7 - "1463-1464"

Henry Beaufort, Earl of Somerset

I'm pleased to see that being on a diplomatic mission to France, and me being quite literally in bed with the enemy, hasn't stopped Jasper from sending me creepy little messages of instructions.

Congratulations, darling! You are now my spy. While you're there you might as well make yourself useful and get me halfway decent information till we can arrange to meet you. Stop glaring at this note your pretty face is keeping you alive. Until we meet again, my friend. Poison Recipe to follow.

I know we don't talk about it a lot but I really do think we should have found him a religion or something after his father and brother died because he's definitely getting worse. Someone needs to tell him how unsettling he is I know it's on purpose but it's getting intrinsic now.
I'm under guard now, nobody trusts me but Edward but that's enough to keep me alive so I have to go with it. I was always going to give Jasper information but now I have to be cross about it because he told me to which is a strain.
I've been here a couple of months, it's been in exhausting, in a couple of senses. I'm regarded with high favor at court but few like me. It's been a bit and now clearly Jasper now knows I'm captured. I hope Joan's all right. Well I know she's all right but she's got the little boy I know being on the run isn't lovely but my bastard isn't helping things I'm aware and I was hoping to be home by now. I realize it's selfish but I hope the child at least remembers my voice if not my face when I return.
Not a lot to do about that now, however. Nothing but try to get home as safely possible. I'm doing some good old fashioned skulking, and I've succeeded in getting something like decent access to most of Windsor. Thus far I haven't found much of use out, because the York family doesn't generally function on something like a solid long term plan. I know Warwick does. Warwick also hates me with the burning passion of several thousand stars. I can live with that I do think.
I'm in the middle of a good solid skulk when a knife goes to my throat.
"Ah fun," I say, pleasantly, holding my up hands.
"Time for a chat," Peter Courtenay says, guiding me into a sitting room. A couple of women are here. I struggle not to laugh.
Peter locks the door and puts away his dagger.
"Now look. Things were going quite fine before you showed up," Peter says, folding his arms.
"Aw, did you have being the simpering little probably turn coat sodomite role covered in the royal court? Not interested in being usurped?" I ask, mock sympathetically.
"I realize that was intended to insult me but did you hear how it was more insulting to you?" Peter asks.
"Not a bit. I have no shame sold it years ago, good morrow ladies," I say, bowing a little, "I assume we all have something in common?"
"Look I don't know why he made us be here we're getting paid," the one woman says.
"Yeah we don't have a problem with you," the other woman says.
"I'm Harry Beaufort, Earl of Somerset don't know if we've been introduced," I say, nicely.
"Lucy, and Wyte," the one girl says, clearly using their last names, "Like I said m'lord we don't really care we're getting paid the same."
"Hear that Peter? They're getting paid," I laugh.
"I'm getting paid as well! I work here," Peter says, annoyed, "You're the only one not getting paid, Somerset."
"Does that not making you worse sinners than I then?" I ask.
"You are getting food," Lucy volunteers.
"And lodging that's there but even so much do you get? Is that why we're having this chat? Solidify our wages?" I ask, putting a foot on stool to lean on my knee also because Peter thinks he's handsomer than I am and he's really not.
"My family won't take me back so it doesn't much matter," Wyte says, the girl is clearly pregnant.
"Oh that's sad d'you want to talk about it?" I ask.
"No they don't want to talk about it!" Peter cries, "And that's not why we're here, Somerset. We are here because I know what it is you're doing."
"And how is it any different than what you're doing, love?" I ask, advancing on him to lay a hand on his chest.
"Yeah Peter why are you mad at him he's nice?" Lucy asks.
"Because he's annoying," I say, smiling at her, then I look back at Peter, "Isn't that right, pet? We're not doing anything different that's why you're so cross."
"I'm nothing like you," Peter says, coldly, "I am loyal to my King."
"Oh my god," I say, staring into his eyes, "Is THAT what you're doing? You're playing with a handicap. My god. You were bored as ever so you thought you'd join the losing side and stir things up a little, operate as the only member of the party with a brain for a little light entertainment there's too much cleverness going on in the Lancasters for you besides Jasper doesn't trust you because you do shit like this for fun."
"I don't know what you're talking about," he says, moving my hand off his chest. I put my other one there.
"Yeah you do. You're having your fun. Fine. Go ahead. I shan't get in the way all I want now is a quiet life," I say.
"Bull shit," Peter whispers.
"Look Peter it's not like it's that big of a deal if he wants to be here he looks happy," Lucy says.
"Yeah the King gets bored," Wyte says.
"Yeah he could use to calm down a little couldn't he?" I ask, looking over at the girls.
"I've never heard someone put it that bluntly before. But yes," Lucy says.
"Just get out of my castle, and away from my throne, before Warwick frames you for spying that you're definitely doing," Peter snarls, "Your king is going to lose."
"Bet on that, Courtenay?" I ask, tipping my head prettily, "Come love, seal it with a kiss."
"Is that your main method to get out of problems?"
"God did give me this face so that I would use it, Father," I say, he's a priest we don't ever talk about it because I don't think he's ever done ecclesiastical duties but he is.
Peter kisses me strongly, then spits in my face.
"Peter, be nice," Lucy says.
"Yeah be nice to him I like him," Wyte says.
I laugh, wiping my face.
"Go home, Somerset," Peter says, and then he leaves.
"Ah well. That went well," I say, coming to flop down on the sofa in between the ladies. I lay my arm over the back of the sofa and they both lean on my shoulders automatically.
"Sorry he was cross with you, he's very cynical about things generally speaking," Lucy says.
"Oh yes that's why we don't get on I'm generally very merry about things generally speaking," I say, tipping my head back, "Even so."
"How long have you known Peter, m'lord?"
"Oh call me Somerset that's also not my name—oh I've known our Father Courtenay since we were both boys here. My father was usually around and he was one of the clerks who'd help King Henry with his colleges. He's always been this temperamental I'm not even bothered, really," I say, "How long've the two of you been here?"
"I met the king in the country," Lucy says, "He brought me back last year."
"My family works in London," Wyte says, hand on her belly she's not due soon but it's probably her first, "The king is very kind."
"Is he? That's good," I say, "Tell me any of the king's friends you don't like?"
"No, we don't see anyone much," Lucy says.
"No, you're the first Lord who's talked to us," Wyte says, "What with the baby nobody's supposed to see me the king doesn't want his mother finding out."
Note to bloody self, make sure the king's mother finds out.
"The Earl of Warwick shouted at me once to get out he needed to talk to the King. Rude he was," Lucy says.
"Oh yes that does sound like our Warwick, not my favorite person either," I say. These two know nothing mostly because Edward as a rule also knows nothing.
"Oh and the king's little brother, he's downright upsetting he is," Wyte says.
"Which? Aren't they both boys?" I ask. Our Prince Edward's age or thereabouts. I've seen children darting about but thought little of it.
"The youngest one, got terrible blue eyes he has, like he's looking right through you. All noble as well, looked right disgusted when he saw me," Wyte finishes.
"Hm," I say. Being an unsettling child is probably a right of passage or something of that kind I don't really claim to have been a good child. "Why did the boy see you even if you're meant to be hidden away?"
"Creeping about or something. There were others with him but they scurried off he just stared at us," Lucy explains, "I asked Edward if all of them kids were going back to studies or whoever they were before the holidays, he said no said he'd gone off the idea."
"Hm," wonder why? I'll have to ask him; he generally just answers my questions.
The door bursts open. The girls jump a little more into me and I put my arms around them. But it's just a still completely incensed Peter, "And another thing—you don't even really like him!"
"You don't like anything it's your main personality trait," I say.
"No, we're not talking about me. We're talking about you. And you don't actually like him," Peter says, "You fancy women you were forever attempting to seduce that Hill girl."
" 'attempting'," I say, completely hurt, despite it having taken me about seven years an an actual revolution limiting her options to achieve it.
"Attempting yeah you'd always try to charm the girls. Ergo. You don't really like him," Peter says.
"For one thing I am completely offended, that you think I am not a man of many talents," I say.
"You fancy girls too?" Lucy asks, but like she's interested.
"Oh I fancy anything that's a good time it doesn't really matter, the main thing that matters is me getting to exercise my wit and having a proper audience, I thrive on attention," I say.
"Which the King doesn't he probably doesn't understand multiple syllables which means he can't enjoy your wit which means you don't like him," Peter says, angrily.
"You don't like anything why is this such an issue?" I ask, not getting up, the girls just went back to leaning on me. "You're not protective. You don't really like anyone but you. This is all just a chess game for you sixty four squares the only reason you know how to exist."
"Do you know what it's like? You're the first born son you've always been your father's special boy. I was the third born son, and I know I'm fucking different okay? I know. I've always known what's more my parents did too. I told them I wanted to be someone great, that I wanted to be something. So I am. The game is all I have, all I know how to play, it is all that I am. The rest of you? You can have something else. I cannot. This is me, this is it. So don't fucking spoil it, all right Somerset? I'm asking you not to ruin this for me because you can be something else I cannot," Peter says, gripping his tunic.
"Are you afraid I'm going to kill him or something upsetting your precious board?" I ask, disdainfully.
"Why do you think you haven't had a knife within your arm's reach since the day you came here?" Peter growls.
"He's not a traitor, he's nice," Lucy says.
"Yeah Peter, he's on our side," Wyte says.
"Don't try to play from my side. I have that covered. Don't upset the bloody board," Peter growls, "Those are the rules."
"He's very high strung," Lucy tells me.
"Yes, love, I'd noticed—I'm not upsetting anything Peter, I promise," I say, innocently. Damned man keeping the knives from me. Jasper-Poison-Recipe-to-Follow-motherfucking-Tudor had better deliver. And it had better be easy to follow he's annoying clever so he'll think something's easy and it's not at all to anyone but him and the bloody King.
"If you do. My new game is causing you and your descendants and however many of your fucking family—pain. Just pain. That will be new creed. Pain. Do you understand me?" Peter asks.
"Not at all," I say, pleasantly, just to wind him up.
"I have never, had—anything—in my life until now this is the life I have always wanted for the first time I'm having real, genuine fun, and life is worth living. Do not. Do not—take that away from me," Peter says, pointing at me, "Do you hear me Somerset? Don't you dare."
"Our paths nor purposes shall cross. Possibly go lie down for an hour?" I say.
He snarls at me, then storms out.
"I'm sorry. He's quite emotional," Wyte says.
"No, I know. Really he's not a bad chap. Just as he said, he's lonely," I truly believe he's finally having fun. Miserable scrap. He's never had a really worthy game till now and he's only playing for himself but he'll be damned before he let's a sop like me upset the board or worse take some of his precious pieces.
I'm honestly going to go, but then Edward walks in, by a different door than the unfortunate priest left by.
"Somerset I've been—what are you doing?" Edward asks, seeing all three of us.
"Just sitting here, been having a nice chat with Peter," I say.
"What are all of you doing?" Edward asks, closing the door.
"We were just hanging about," Lucy says.
"Yeah it's cold out we were board the Earl of Somerset and Peter were telling us of Devon," Wyte says, quickly, expecting him to be cross. I know he's not cross so I just sigh.
"Were they?" Edward asks, coming over to kiss Lucy, then me, in turn, "I'm not in the mood for talking."
"Your Majesty," I say, moving so he can take my clothes off. Ah well that was how this would go. I did not intend to do this today I'm so lucky Joan finds the situations I wind up in funny. I wish I found them funny. Well, I will in retrospect, possibly. Especially if I manage to confess to Peter.