Days of the Dead Book 3: The King's Ghost

Chapter 5: The English Job

Gideon
I spend the night on the floor of Prince Harry's room, because he doesn't seem to care I'm there and I want to watch in case he has a concussion. He does not. He does wake up, when his father walks in his room and kicks me in the middle of my back.
"Does that make you happy or something?" I groan, rolling more under the bed.
"Yes, actually. Good morning Harry, did you sleep well?" King Henry asks. He clearly has not been to bed, or if he was he barely changed. His hair is damp and he's nearly smiling though the messed up side of his face hinders that.
Prince Harry yelps and cover his chest. He was sleeping without his shirt, because there was dog drool all over it. I know because he tossed it off and told me I now had to cover my eyes if I got up. I said not a problem and had no intention of getting up.
"Father, you have to knock!" Harry yelps, covering himself modestly.
"I'm your father, and why are you covering your chest; you're a man?" King Henry asks, confused.
"It's immodest," sinking lower and covering almost his whole face, "What time is it?"
"Sunrise, I have a plan, and with no servants I just came to wake you myself," King Henry says, attempting to kick me again.
"What? I'm helping you," I mumble, sliding away under the bed.
"Three warships, Saint," King Henry says, lightly.
"We'll meet you for breakfast. Please leave," Harry says, not moving.
"You're not going to get up while I'm standing here? Do we need to talk about this before I even pretend to die?" King Henry asks.
"No."
"Are you naked?"
"No! That would be indecent!"
"Not—really. This or not understanding math? Hm, ah—are you ever going to get married?" King Henry asks. I've crawled up from underneath the bed for this.
"Maybe," Prince Harry, blushing furiously, "Possibly yes. I don't know."
"How about get injured?"
"Not if I can help it."
"Do you let anyone see you without—let's go with just a shirt on?" King Henry asks.
"No, that would be indecent," still blushing furiously, mostly under the blankets, "Not even the dogs."
"Do you—fancy any of the girls? Look at any of the girls who work at the palace?"
"No! That would be immoral."
"Do you ever—watch the squires go have sword practice or the like?"
"As a rule no, it's very upsetting they could be hurt they all go too roughly. Sometimes I practice with them for morale can we not talk about this when I'm clothed?" Prince Harry asks, a little indigent.
"Circling back to the girls because you're eighteen or something— you don't fancy chatting with any of the girls that work at Windsor, or your noble cousins?" King Henry asks.
"No. I prefer to spend my free time in prayer and study, can we not talk about my schedule over breakfast?" Harry asks, upset.
"Okay. Remind me to show you the paperwork on how to delegate an heir, if one of your brothers has children. I'll see you at breakfast," King Henry says, going to leave.
"Yes, father," Prince Harry says.
"See you at breakfast," I nod to him, before hurrying to follow the King and the five dogs that came with him.
"Is that always like that?" King Henry asks me, gesturing towards his son's room.
"Ah—yes, your majesty," I say.
"He's going to die," King Henry breaths, just walking on.
"I mean, eventually," I mutter, following him.
Breakfast is apparently food laid out for us in the kitchen. It seems we're the only residents here at Pleasance. King Henry is clearly used to this few a people, smoothly going to get his own plate and idly looking out the windows at the garden, with little care that it's not his fine court.
"Where are the other children?" I ask Courtenay.
"Due to the threat of Aragon; all the other children are at the Tower under the Duke of Exeter's care," Courtenay says.
"The threat of Aragon the king made up?"
"Yes, that one."
"Good morning father, again," Prince Harry says, blushing as he descends the stairs to the kitchen. He's dressed now in one of his soft black shirts.
"Have you—considered a marriage for yourself?" King Henry asks.
"Is this a budgetary question?" Prince Harry knows his father.
"Yes, obviously it takes great expense for a proper ceremony. I need to know how soon you might need funds allotted," King Henry says.
"Not very soon, I'm good, thank you though," Prince Harry says.
"What other kind of question would it be?"
"I don't know; you had quite a lot of questions that had nothing to do with the other while I was under my blanket," Prince Harry says.
Courtenay nearly laughs at that but composes himself.
"They were very connected, but it's fine. Since you're not interested in matrimony, should you be interested in something that is not—matrimony—remind me I have a set of instructions for you," King Henry says, watching his son lose the will to live.
"If you're implying I would have a sinful relationship I am disgusted and hurt," Prince Harry, disgusted and hurt, blushing furiously, "That would be shameful and immoral. And very very wrong. And I'm very sickened you would imply something like that. I will be chaste until marriage as you were."
"I'm trying to cover everything, that's all, Harry" King Henry says, clearly holding out his hand. Courtenay walks over and puts money in it, sighing a little. I glare at Courtenay who ignores me. Prince Harry misses the exchange. This means one of a few things A) they were betting on Prince Harry being disgusted by the idea of premarital relationships, B) they were betting on Prince Harry being unaware his two dads are in fact in a relationship C) Courtenay occasionally hands King Henry money during times of stressful parenting to make him happy. Honesty C could be correct. Fast recap, King Henry took a vow of chastity when he became king. Which is kind of like giving up milk products to save the animals, if you're already lactose intolerant. Yeah, he made a big deal of it like it was some big sacrifice but he never cared for anything but money, war, and setting things on fire, to begin with, so. Also there's like 70% chance that was something Courtenay said he did, for publicity, and he never actually did it. Apparently his son is one of the people who bought it as being a wonderfully devout religious thing.
"Well, I will live my life according to God's will, as I always have. It is how you and mother raised me," Prince Harry says, still horrified and embarrassed.
"I don't think we did this," King Henry says, quietly, like still caressing the crown that Courtenay handed him.
"Please, father, may we move on to the topics at hand?" Prince Harry asks.
"Yes, of course," King Henry says, finally pocketing the money.
"Good. I did much prayer last night and I really think you were right all along. God wants you to be king and me to never have to do anything with taxes he did not bend my mind for that," Prince Harry says.
"Be that as it may you must be ready," King Henry says, "As it is. I do have a plan. Not solid one yet, but. We have limited time. First and foremost we must set the stage. If the demon comes when I'm alone or isolated it's much harder to get me out."
"You're going to arrange a battle," I say.
"Something of that kind," Courtenay says.
"We must assume, however, that the demon is spying at any time, as Saint perpetually does," King Henry says, "Once it wakes, it needs to be distracted."
"I am a born distraction, your majesty." I say, eagerly.
"I've noticed," King Henry says, dryly, as he eats some food with his mustard. His son is doing the same thing but instead of mustard it's tarts and honey but both are using the solid food as a vessel for their preferred condiment.
"Gideon, how long do you think realistically you can distract Wren, for?" Courtenay asks, he's sitting at the table neatly, to eat with Harry who is doing the same thing. The King and I are both pacing slightly.
"Considering that he spent like a week chasing the wrong Henry based solely off the fact that his name is Henry for like...a week. I could probably tell him that I'm secretly Henry, and he'd believe it," I say, "So, a long time. A really long time."
"Do it," King Henry says, "He cannot suspect a trap, however I need to raise an army."
"And fabricate a cause for raising them," the Archbishop says.
"Yes, exactly."
"All right, I'll lead him on a merry chase, and then point him back your way when you give the word," I say, shrugging a little.
"Why are we raising an army?" Prince Harry asks, raising a hand.
"If I fall I fall in battle, obviously," King Henry says, "Not only will that make it easier to fabricate my death but it also makes my ultimate resurrection more believable."
"All right," I'm aware how pissed I'm going be later when I have to live with knowing that I helped this egomaniac stage his own return from the dead. I also don't personally want him to die, however.
"But then our soldiers could be hurt," Prince Harry puts in.
"Oh, they will be," his father says, idly, not seeing a problem, "That's why I have to be careful selecting who fights. Also, while I need bow support they may need to be sabotaged. We can't actually win and have the demon return or send another one."
"I see," Prince Harry says, frowning a little.
"We'll need a proper arena as well," Courtenay says.
"Yes, somewhere I'd understandably choose to defend and fight off an assailant, yet somewhere I don't actually care about—,"
"Oh please no," I whimper.
"Harlech castle should do—,"
"Oh, please, I live there!" I groan.
"—it's one of the easiest to defend castles in Britain and only one man has ever broken it," King I am Great at Sieging Places Because I'm Stubborn and Also Mean Henry says, coolly. He's talking about himself, obviously. He sieged Harlech.
"Why can't you do it here? Kenilworth is just as secure," I say. Not quite but very close.
"Because I like it here."
"Damn it," I mutter. I'm gonna have to go tell everyone to go to the other side of Wales and not even ask why.
"I won't require much beyond bow support as I'm utilizing the castle," King Henry says, dryly, "I need an army I can trust."
"Wow, I'm here helping you."
"And I don't trust you. Distract the demon while we raise the army and possibly you can aid in the second phase," King Henry says. Arrogant bastard. I love him so much.
"Oh, I'm honored, thank you," I say.
"You're welcome," not catching the sarcasm.
"So—let me get this straight, while Gideon distracts the demon or whatever he is, we raise an army, go to Wales, and pretend we're going to be attacked? By whom?" Harry asks.
"I'm in between the Irish and Aragon but I'm taking suggestions," King Henry says.
"How about you don't use this as a political move and just say its a band of rebels or something slightly close to the truth?" I say.
"I'm not taking suggestions from you."
"Aragon should do, it will cement your cause, Harry, and aid the invasion we've set up," Courtenay says.
"What kind of a priest are you?" I ask him. They ignore me.
"Yes, you'll enjoy that. And it will be great for national pride the people love for you to win battles for them."
"Father, I've been observing our people and I think they like eating as well," Prince Harry says.
"Glory is most important, our wars are god's plan," King Henry says. He can argue about this all day. Once a, like, priest told him that war was shameful (specifically the ditch incident, siege of Rouen don't look it up), and Henry dragged him by the collar into a back room and then three hours later they emerged and the priest agreed with Henry. No idea what went on but I'm sure gaslighting was involved. That story is 100% true, look it up if you ever miss Henry later and start to forget what a manipulative son of a bitch he is.
"The same god who is trying to kill you?" Prince Harry asks, very nicely.
"This is likely some sort of satanic being that is seeking to end my reign," King Henry assures him, very confidently.
"For the record, not really, I'm not not helping but no, we're not supposed to be doing this. Don't worry your highness, God's going to blame the three of us not you," I say.
"That's true," Courtenay says, shrugging a little. Henry looks at him. "What? We're all doing this willingly it's not like anyone would blame him for being involved he's obviously innocent have you even looked at him?"
For emphasis Courtenay gestures to Harry, who, despite being nearly a grown man, still has the same energy of innocence as a blind three legged kitten.
"We will prevail, it is God's plan," Henry says, coolly to his son, "It will be good practice for you, raising the army. Saint stop making gestures at him—,"
"I'm encouraging him," I say, as I put my plate down. I was making universal 'you don't got this but I believe in you' gestures along with mouthing 'he's your dad spend some time with him he might like you'.
"I don't think—yes of course father," Harry, very patronizingly, but he thinks it sounds genuine, "Don't worry about a thing. Let's just focus on the part of the plan where the demon is trying to kill you and leave me with whatever you've done with the finances."
This should not work, but it does, King Henry nods, feeding an unacceptable bit of sausage to one of the drooling dogs, "Yes, well, first and foremost Saint is going to distract the demon to buy us more time, as well as to lay the groundwork for my eventual apparent demise. That plan is still fluid."
"How long do you honestly think you can distract him for?" Courtenay asks.
"Long," I say, "Kit is very gullible, we told him he was killing the wrong Henry and he immediately believed us."
"You make a good point," Courtenay says.
"You engage with him, and if he's receptive to your advances you offer to join forces with him. Given his actions so far he's likely to believe it, and that will make it all the easier for us to lead him into our hands," Henry says.
"I'll try, no guarantees, but I'll try," I say, shrugging a little, "He's been kind of eager to kill me, just for fun. But at the very least he'll probably just believe any false information I give him."
"We don't want to underestimate him," Harry cautions, petting two of the dogs who have their heads in his lap, "What if he's been spying on us, like Gideon does?"
"Oh he's asleep at the moment, but once the spell wears off, yes, we should be cautious," I say.
"We're not underestimating him. But we do need to play to his weaknesses," King Henry says, "For now, Saint, when does he awake?"
"Two days, now, should be," I say, "I have a plan to distract him but it's fluid. It'll involve me not being here, but it should get him well away and not spying so you can cement your plan."
"Do it, but report back here every twelve hours. We'll stay at Pleasance another few days before we muster, and move our base to Wales," King Henry, cheerful about destroying a perfectly good castle.
"Yes, Harlech," I say, dryly.
"Yes. I'm not generally the occupying force—,"
"No, we all know you're very good a sieging things," I say, dryly. It's his favorite hobby. I'm not even kidding.
"Yes, I am," not sensing any sarcasm, "However it will be a good exercise for the men to be on the defending side. As well as yourself Harry, you've not seen battle yet given our timeline it's good you should get practice under my guidance as entertaining as it is to be in your own command the opportunity presents itself and you have the chance to learn."
"Is that what you did with your father?" Harry asks, sort of nicely, with about as much enthusiasm as looking forward to having his fingernails pulled out, but is willing to do it if it's an important memory to his father. "In Wales?"
"It was an educational experience."
It was a disaster. That's when the arrow went through his face, Shrewsberry. He hated it. He's still not an infantry man, he likes sieging and loves occupying. Anyway, yeah, the time his father commanded a battle with him, an arrow wound up through his face. Don't feel too sorry for him, he didn't actually leave the field or anything for several hours at which point he was coaxed off after killing the enemy leader. With an arrow sticking out of his head. I don't call him the stubbornest man in Europe for nothing.
"This all sounds like it will essentially work, in theory, assuming whatever higher power is satisfied Harry has the crown," Courtenay says.
"It will work," Henry says, briskly, "We will make it so."
"Then what? Where are we actually going to go?" Courtenay asks, clearly concerned about occupying Henry during their self-imposed exile.
"Return to Europe, start the rumor that I've risen as a Messiah figure to unite my empire and that the Lord brought me back from the dead to claim Jerusalem, my birth right," Henry, hand on hip, very sure of himself. Yes, he also thinks all of Europe is his birthright. Yes, this is a problem for Europe.
"You're just going to show up someplace and say 'wow look at that, we rose from the dead...together'?" I ask, because I have abiding respect for this man who for all intents and purposes, pays the prettiest man in England to follow him everywhere and be with him constantly, and has convinced the entire world and 600 years of history that was the choice of a straight man.
"Yes, essentially, not like that, but that is the idea. The Archbishop will become my Prophet," King Henry says, like this should have been obvious.
Courtenay chokes on his food. He didn't know that.
"Okay," I say, patting Courtenay's back helpfully so he doesn't choke. "Sure, do that." You know what? This probably isn't going to work but at least Henry's happy.
"We tried that, it didn't work before," Courtenay says, "Why can't I be your mute Disciple?"
"The prophet thing would have caught on if Thomas hadn't told our father, it was fine," Henry says, dismissively. Oh, so this probably happened when they were like, twelve. "But if you like we'll consider it. It's easier to say 'prophet' than disciple."
"Yes we'll consider it, right, we'll go to Jerusalem," Courtenay says, massaging his face, resigned.
"Yes, as God's chosen warriors," King Henry says, happily.
"You realize that that's sacrilege. You're not actually dying and God is not telling you to do that, God is telling you to die," Harry says, he's been like, trying not to hyperventilate.
"I don't know why you're making problems, you should be thankful he's not talking about taxes anymore," I say.
"Taxes reminds me, Harry there are a couple of things I forgot to mention yesterday regarding the shipping tax I instituted five years ago to pay for three broken warships—,"
"Why would you say that? You don't have to say these things," Harry breaths, clearly panicking.
"Sorry, my lord, well, I'm off," I'm about to leave.
"Don't you DARE leave me alone with them again," Harry hisses.
"—anyway I never discontinued the tax and I've used it to acquire another cannon, but if you wanted you could discontinue it after you've finished paying off the loan for the cannon that's in seven years—,"
"What's the cannon's name?" I ask. He's really good at naming things, listen.
"Gabriel. I used it in France you've seen it," Henry says, completely pleased. Gabriel as in 'Archangel'. Yeah, he's dramatic, three of his favorite cannons are named The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost respectively. I'm not kidding. He's so good at naming things he should get to name more things.
"Don't you dare," Harry has leaned across the table to take hold of my shirt, "They never stop talking."
"I thought we'd finished paying for that," Courtenay frowns.
"No, I diverted those funds when we needed arrows last June."
"Oh right, I'm sorry, I kept thinking because we went through with the loan with the Castile jewels—,"
"Right, no, we were going to do that but instead I used that to secure the border and set up patrols, but now those are done—Harry, are you following? What are you doing to Saint's shirt?"
"You can't leave me alone with them, no, I already did three days," Harry moans, clutching my shirt for strength.
"They're your dads, they might like you," I say, gently trying to free myself without actually touching him.
"I know and I love them dearly at a distance where math is not involved!"
"Harry, are you getting this? Let go of the wizard we don't even want to keep him if he's trying to leave, let him go. He'll come back when he's hungry, or I'm trying to have a drink and quiet religious counsel with the Archbishop," King Henry says, dismissively.
"That's what you call talking about how great you both look and complimenting each other's clothes for two hours every night?" I ask, sassily, because Harry has got my shirt harder.
"We also talk about money," Courtenay, not even denying the other two things.
"I think you have a task to do, Saint," King Henry says, dryly, also not denying that's what they do. They know I spy on them and that's exactly what they do.
"I get the feeling, and this is just an idea, he doesn't want me to leave," I say.
"He's fine," King Henry says.
"I'm adopting you. Then you legally have to stay too. I'm doing it. I can draw up the papers I looked I can take custody of you. Then you'd have to stay and listen to them too. I can have you as my ward I checked."
"I'm not even legally alive in this timeline," I say, gently.
Prince Harry groans.
"Also, we don't want him, Harry, let him go. We've got several hours of this to cover," King Henry says, with no remorse, "We haven't even touched my brother's accounts."
"WHY DO YOU HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH YOUR BROTHERS' ACCOUNTS?" Prince Harry might lose his mind.
"I have accounts for all of my Dukedoms and Earls, I have to check their figures. It's quite relaxing, come," King Henry says, just moving his son by the balled up back of his shirt, "Let go of the wizard. He's not going to help you. He's probably plotting against us anyway."
"Wow, I've sworn fealty to you three times, look I'll come back, I promise, I'll come back," I say, as Prince Harry tugs on my shirt.
"Saint, take your shirt off and go," Courtenay says.
"That'll upset him," I say.
"I know," Courtenay says, tiredly.
"Fine," Prince Harry lets go, "But please father, can we not—hire someone else to go over these?"
"Absolutely not we trust no one. Money is far too important. Come," King Henry says, setting him down but not fully trusting him to follow.
"Gideon, he can't die and leave me with all of this please, do your best," Prince Harry sighs.
"I will, my lord," I say, bowing a little.