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

Chapter 12: Siri, play "Mercy Seat" by Nic Cave

Gideon
Once again, I return to Harlech. Now we are a bustle of activity, with English soldiers and infantry overwhelming the small Welsh band of longbowmen and king's guard that remain here with me and Elis.
King Henry is now here in Harlech, which is sort of like the monster from your nightmares sitting at your kitchen table making your friends bring him wine, while his murder husband lurks in the background. Yeah, Elis' resting face for the past two days has been 'I didn't invite you here and I don't want you in my house'.
Henry's turned our usual war room into his war room, and is, to put it simply, having the time of his life. LancasterDrama genes are strong in this family, and planning a performance in which he is the key player AND he gets to actually see combat AND he gets to inconvenience Welsh people, is kind of like Christmas for him. My only consolation in that is that he may die, so to an extent I have to be glad he's having fun.
Everyone of note is situated in the war room, going over final plans.
King Henry is dressed in a white shirt and regular black padded tunic, coronet on his head, with the Black Prince's Ruby set in it. He looks every bit the warlord king, his haggard face lined from hours in the sun, and many battle scars. He's clean shaven with his hair neatly trimmed short, and he's wearing a ruby necklace as well as his usual assortment of rings.
Elis is dressed in a red and green set of robes, obviously Welsh, not wearing a coronet, but still head held high and dark hair curling and slicked neatly out of his face. As usual he has a short beard, which he does have the patience to maintain. He's lurking on the edge of the room, just listening.
King Henry's brother, John, is here. He's been summoned for part of the plan, but no one knows he's here. He's several years the king's junior but they are of one mind when it comes to schemes, fraud, and murdering French people. He came in disguise and is dressed simply, he arrived late last night and spoke with his brother at length instead of going to sleep. It says a lot about the brothers in general that he not only showed up here with zero explanation but after basic explanations is not only 100% on board but is also having a good time.
Courtenay looks lovely as ever, dressed similarly to the king in a black padded shirt, and interestingly enough he's not clean shaven, though it looks like more of a five o'clock shadow. It is with great regret that I inform you he looks even sexier, if possible, with facial hair than without. So I was okay not knowing that.
Prince Harry sits at the table with his father. He's dressed completely in black, but loose, simple clothes. As always dressed more like a peasant than a prince. He wears no jewelry and no coronet though I'm sure it was offered. He's got a cape thrown over the back of his chair, but he's not wearing it. His gold curls are shorter than usual and he's clean shaven, but I'm 80% sure he can't grow a beard so that's kind of irrelevant.
I enter and lean in the doorway, waiting for them to come to a break in their conversation which appears to be about arrow supplies.
"Gideon, what news?" Prince Harry notices me first rising.
"My lords," I enter, bowing deeply, because King Henry is here. With Elis or even Prince Harry it's a quick bow and then get going.
"Well?" King Henry asks, raising an eyebrow.
"He bought it, he said he'd attack at nightfall," I say.
"Do we believe him?" Elis asks me.
"I do, but I've been wrong before. We'd best be ready to move any time now. He's gaining strength in the tomb," I say.
"Come in," Prince Harry nods for me to join them, "Where's Oisin?"
"He's relaying this to the bowmen. They need to be aware not to fire on him or I even if we're aiding Kit," I say.
"They will not," King Henry who absolutely would have told them to go ahead and fire on us. "How does he plan to kill me?"
"Rocks, or stabbing. We can't do much about getting close, but," I say, shrugging.
"And did you impress upon him my colors?" King Henry asks.
"I tried—he is not—observant. I'll point him in the right direction," I say.
"Or shall we say the wrong one?" John grins.
"A fatal collapse of a wall or the like, should convince the demon of your demise," King Henry says.
"What?" I ask, frowning.
"Last minute change, the Duke of Bedford will be flying the king's colors, allowing us to lure Kit away, and then when the King appears to be dead, and my uncle has survived, my uncle can go back to his own colors," Prince Harry sums up, quickly.
"Fun," I say, with no sarcasm.
"Yes, I thought so," King Henry says, with no sarcasm, "Elis will run the bowmen and remain with my son on the ramparts."
"Yes," Prince Harry, clearly not looking forward to it.
Why is that happening? Well because after about two hours of going back and forth, King Henry remembered that Elis's top priority is staying alive and that he will do anything to avoid combat, making him the perfect watchdog for the Prince. And everyone likes the Prince so it's not an issue.
"I will join the melee with the infantry and then when the battle is done, simply leave, with a few trusted men," King Henry says like that's anyone other than Courtenay.
"I'll be with the sorcery line," Courtenay says. He was not always going to do that. It took him, and I, and Prince Harry, six hours collectively to remember that Courtenay and King Henry are not in fact one person, and that the hit on King Henry officially has nothing to do with Courtenay, and that since nobody really knows who he is there is 0.0 reason to fake Courtenay's death absolutely nobody will go looking for him. I mean not nobody, but like all Prince Harry has to say is something like that he sent Courtenay on a trip to Jerusalem to pray for King Henry's soul and everyone will be fine.
"And I'll be with Kit, once he 'kills' who he thinks is the King, then I'm going to turn coat on him and distract him," I say, "If he starts killing indiscriminately I may have to show my hand before that. But. Hopefully, he creates a little rock slide that Oisin can save you from, and then I'll lay into him so he doesn't really think twice about it. In theory, his job is done he'll leave. But he's not been very logical so far."
"Exciting," John grins, slapping his thigh. Then he reaches out and shakes Prince Harry's shoulder. The boy winces. Again he's like very invested such a supportive brother, usually considered the nicer version of Henry but like that is a low bar and it's never stopped him from enabling Henry. "Come on, smile. It'll be good training for you. You'll enjoy it."
"I truly doubt that."
"So do I, but we'll enjoy it," King Henry says, smiling a little, "Good to show the people that no threat can shake us."
"Except you'll be 'dead'," Prince Harry looks at him.
"But we will know the truth," King Henry says.
"We'll be on the inner ward," Elis says, looking at the Prince. "We'll be well."
"Two or three hours, not much more. At this point it's waiting," King Henry says, looking at all of us, "We don't know when the monster will come, so best be ready."
With that, we all go to get into armor. Well, we were all supposed to leave. The regular folk like me usually go get ready with the bowmen and the like in the armory. The royals and those participating in evil schemes in general have their stuff brought up here. But, as I'm going to leave, Prince Harry just walks up and knots his hand in my shirt and then denies he's holding onto me when asked.
"Harry, let Saint go."
"I'm not holding onto him."
"Yes, you are."
"No, I'm not. Also, I feel faint."
Yeah, he gets to keep me.
Now, armoring up for the likes of me, is light armor similar to that of a bowman. Leather and some mail, jacket. Mine has the dragon of Wales emblazoned on it. Underneath that I have a padded green tunic and trousers. Of course, high practical leather boots. Then I have gauntlets, and gloves, and a neck collar. None of will protect from close range but I don't plan on being that close range and my magic usually stops that. It's more important I get to move.
For Elis and Prince Harry, they're getting full plate armor, even though they are just watching. Beneath that though they both get mail shirts which will block any attempted stab wounds. Their mail and plate armor is the best of its kind. It's not in fashion yet to polish it, but it is light as can be afforded, good Welsh steel from our own mines, and of course is fitted specifically to them. Both will wear their colors, as well as have a flag bearer behind them. This sounds like a great way to make a king a target, and yeah, it is, but it also makes it more obvious the King is still standing. That's important too.
King Henry would normally be suiting up in nice plate armor, but not this time. No, not this time.
There's a somber note to the air as we all get ready, a few stewards bring the armor then King Henry sends them away.  The switch with his brother cannot be known outside this room.
I am able to help Elis get into his armor, which works well enough.
Prince Harry turns around while the rest of us strip off our usual shirts to put on the padded ones beneath the mail. He does the same, but keeps his back turned, dressing himself.  John looks at King Henry who shrugs and gestures that he also doesn't know why the boy is so modest around other men. Again, me being there aside, it's not overly uncommon for even nobility to change around other men especially in wartime.
Prince Harry turns back around when he's sure we've all got our shirts back on, red faced and silent.
"Do you want me to help you drop it on?" Elis offers him, gently, picking up a mail shirt. The boy would know how to put it on himself. Not well. But he'd have an idea. An experienced soldier like King Henry or his brother can and do easily don their own mail shirts, but even I take a minute fiddling one on myself and I wear them fairly often for training.
Elis gently drops the shirt on the boy, and I help from the other side so neither of us touch him. Elis follows my lead, when he sees me instantly remove my hands well before they reach his shoulders. Then, I help them both alternately with the plate armor. Elis isn't overly used to it, and while Harry knows how it should go he's not experienced with the clasps.
We're somber and quiet, more so than usual. When donning armor as a rule you're pretending you're all going to see the other side of the battle. Not today. Everybody but King Henry fears for King Henry. Well, I don't know if Elis does, but he does in that he knows this boy could lose his father and our men could lose our lives.
I help Elis and Harry with their plate armor, which is fiddly as each individual piece needs to be snapped on, together it will weigh easily a hundred pounds, more on a taller man. This is something one can do oneself, but not easily, at all. Like you could maybe get it on and off in a pinch, but it takes even an experienced steward upwards of thirty minutes to get it all on properly. For this reason exactly one very extra person was noted to sleep in armor when on campaign. Yes this was a Lancaster, not our King Henry but his father, but that's a story for another day. Point being, plate armor it takes at least one or two people to get it on you correctly, and in a situation like this lacking usual stewards, I'm helping.
King Henry would normally be putting on full plate like his son. But today he's donning the spare armor from his soldiers. It's not made specifically for him and it will have more gaps than the armor of a king. It's also clearly been repaired and is dingy, compared to his usual which would be fully reforged anytime he damaged it.
King Henry removes all of his rings, and jewelry, laying them on the table. Then, he removes the coronet from his tousled hair.
"Come here, Harry."
"But—,"
"Come here," he places it carefully on his son's head. The boy lowers his dark brown eyes, which are pooling with tears.
"I will not leave you, never," King Henry says, moving as though to touch his boy's cheek then thinking better of it.
Harry grabs his father's rough hand and kisses it, quickly, tears running down his face.
Courtenay returns with a box and a candle that's nearly burnt out. That is odd at first. Then King Henry and the Duke of Bedford both sit in a pair of chairs.
"Gideon, come here, hold this," Courtenay says, very clearly putting my hand on the Duke's head.
Courtenay then pours hot wax down his cheek, regular pale wax, then red. A very crude, if effective, imitation of King Henry's scar. I'm holding his head so he doesn't move. The wax won't burn, at least not badly, but it should stick decently to his skin.
"Once it cools put this over it," Courtenay gives me a powder.
Then Courtenay moves to Henry, filling a bowl with hot wax and then applying it to the scarred side of his face. It's nowhere near going to fully cover the distinctive scar. But it will at least obscure it.
"Sorry, my lord," I say, carefully dabbing the powder over the wax, to set it on John's face.
"Not the worst thing that's been done to me boy, don't worry," John laughs, good naturedly. He is known as being the kinder, more tolerant version of our beloved Henry. That seems to be accurate.
"There," Courtenay says, finishing with Henry. His face still looks messed up, if anything worse, but now it looks more like an old burn or something, and less the obvious arrow wound.
"I'll get a good head wound, then blood' ll be down it no one will note the difference," Henry says, smiling a little.
"Yes, do," Courtenay says, dryly, before turning back to us, "My lord, when the time comes you can scrub that it'll come off easily. Till then keep the helmet on and try not to touch it."
"Right, not the first time. Harry, your dad ever tell you about the time Thomas and he were drunk and so they made me go report in to our father who was also drunk, and didn't note the difference?" John laughs, slapping his nephew's back. His nephew nearly falls over.
"No," Harry says, softly.
"And we made the Archbishop go say we'd been in church with him when he didn't believe you?" King Henry laughs, covering his mouth.
"Yes and you had both gotten me drunk as I recall," Courtenay says, coolly, clearly struggling not to smile.
"No, nobody's told me that one," Harry says, softly.
"It was Thomas' fault, but it was your father who insisted that your grandfather wouldn't know the difference between us, then I just needed a bandage on my face, not this bit," John says, lightly.
"And I was correct it was entirely effective," King Henry says, but he's still smiling.
Elis and I leave the nobles to it. We don't have to stay anywhere particular. King Henry and his brother are going to remain in the room till the last possible moment when they  will split up, John wearing the king's colors and wearing boots that make him taller. Not tall enough, but we're hoping it'll work.
Prince Harry catches my arm as I'm about to leave.
"Please," he whispers tears in his eyes, "I know he doesn't deserve your grace. But please. Save him."
"I will do all that I can, my prince," I say, gently.
He nods, squeezing my arm, "That's all that I ask."
Elis and I, who can leave, do to go and make sure all else is ready. Then we return every so often mostly to make sure King Henry doesn't get bored and plot to kill us. And I don't know what's funnier. Watching Courtenay bounce around the halls bribing every man he can find to act like they don't know who King Henry is, or going back in the room and seeing King Henry completely acting like himself, in a not very good disguise, still taller than anyone ever, telling his son last minute things about taxes while his son goes through a couple stages of grief.
I am surprised to see one familiar face in the english infantry.
"Tudor? What are you doing here?" I ask, when I find him in the hall.
Pleasantly, and with no will to live, "Dying probably."
"No, seriously, I thought you were at the Tower guarding the other children," I say, "We can't have you die, you're important to the plot."
"Thank you, I think. I'm a personal guard to Prince Harry, at the King's command," Tudor says, thinly.
"Ah, good for you then," I nod. That'll be probably pretty safe.
"There you are, Tudor, if you see me then you must act as though you do not recognize me," Courtenay comes up to us, doing his rounds of bribing everyone to go along with Henry's little play.
"I always act like I don't know who you are, it's soothing to me," Tudor says, while fiddling with his sword.
Courtenay stares daggers at him.
"I mean yes, my lord," without looking up.
"Better," Courtenay says, going on and not even paying him.
I smile, "The Queen would've thought it was funny."
"Said it for her," Tudor says, smiling a little as he continues fiddling with his sword, "It's why she first spoke to me. I was just there. She said 'can you tell me why that Bishop is always with the king?' And I said, 'it is not given to me to understand, my lady' and I didn't even look at her it just came out. And she started laughing. We were only nineteen."
He was having an affair with the Queen, who recently passed. It's all cool because apparently the only person who had no idea that was going on was Prince Harry. Everyone else was fine with it as it didn't concern them and their quest for world domination. Anyway, Tudor is understandably sad because she just passed, but it's not like he can talk to anyone about it.
I squeeze his shoulder, then go on. I was going to find the bowmen.
"I'll stop any arrows from reaching you," I tell Gareth as we stand by the armory, him checking his arrows.
"Take care of yourself. We'll take care of Harlech, it's what we do," he says, smiling a little.
"I'm sorry you're here, I didn't want —,"
"And I'll tell you what I told my brother. I defend you. It is kind of my job. And I am fond of it. And both of you so long as you're here. I am."
I hug him, pressing my face into his shoulder.
"We'll win this one," he says, squeezing me fiercely, "We will."