Fic Post
A Hornblower/Plantagenet crossover. Follows directly on from This fic
Poitiers, Aquitaine, 1194
Archie slides down beside Thomas on the bench in the great hall, leans in and asks, “Have you seen, Phillip? I would have thought he would have arrived by now.” Their party had arrived late to the Christmas court at Poitiers and Phillip had mumbled something about seeing to the horses and had taken off before Archie could stop him. As he waits for Thomas to reply he casts an eye over the other men in the hall; looking for Jack, his apprehension heightened by the fact Jack was seemingly missing too. It is a task he has taken on himself; to look after the younger lads; especially Phillip. Archie was by no means amongst the oldest of the squires in De Fourier’s household but he still saw the responsibility as his. While De Fourier had once been considered amongst the most prominent of the lords of the realm his best days were long past him. Families placed their sons in his household due to his past deeds but those sons found little opportunity for new advancement when they were there. De Fourier preferred his warm hearth to the battle field these days.
Thomas waves his goblet dismissively under Archie’s nose, already deep in his cups, “You coddle that boy, Archie, he’s thirteen not three. He’s probably….” Thomas is distracted by something behind Archie, in the archway entrance to the hall. Archie twists round and exhales the knot in his stomach through his nose, relaxing. Phillip has entered the hall, with the King, his father. The King’s arms are draped round Phillip’s shoulders and as they make their way to the dais they stop occasionally so the King can greet certain guests. Archie follows them and his gaze moves a little ahead to where Queen Eleanor and Queen Berengaria, the King’s mother and wife respectively, are sitting. From his seat he can see Eleanor watching the King and Phillip as they approach and Archie is suddenly reminded of a cat watching the world go by, Eleanor remains seated. The younger Queen however stands as the King and Phillip approach and Archie can see her smile is wide as she steps off the dais. Archie cannot hear what she says but she enfolds Phillip in her arms, kisses him and leads him on to the dais. As they approach Eleanor she gestures to Phillip and the boy leans down to kiss his grandmother, Archie notices Eleanor pat Phillip’s hand discreetly. Phillip is then seated between Berengaria and the King.
Archie is relieved for Phillip as he knew how nervous the boy had been about this reunion. During the spring Queen Berengaria had appeared at De Fourier’s walls, asking to speak with King Richard’s son. Phillip had chattered about her afterwards and how lovely she was until Jack had remarked, “But missing something between her legs for your father’s tastes, lad, don’t you think? Still I suppose he’ll be able to think of some Saracen catamite long enough to beget an heir on her, it’s what wives are for after all. Then you’ll see how much time she has for some whore’s whelp then.” Phillip had not replied and at the time Archie had thought him afraid, had been grateful at any rate that he hadn’t provoked Jack further. Suddenly remembering it though Archie realises that Phillip had watched Jack for the rest of that evening much the way Eleanor was watching proceedings in the hall now. Missing nothing that might one day be useful to know.
~
Archie settles down beside Thomas to eat and becomes embroiled in the discussion around him regarding the poetry of William IV, the Troubadour Duke of Aquitaine who was the current King’s great grandfather. He is so vehemently making his point that he does not notice his companions have fallen silent for a reason other than the infallibility of Archie’s argument. When he looks up with a frown at what they’re staring at he sees Phillip and King Richard, both looking amused, standing beside him. Archie jumps to his feet and stammers out, with a glance at Phillip, “My Lord, I did not realise…”
The King shrugs off Archie’s apology and gestures for Archie to return to the bench, sitting down beside him while Philip sits on his father’s other side. The rest of their corner pretends to carry on their conversation quietly. The King speaks, “My son tells me you have been his mentor these past months and that I have you to thank for the fact he will not embarrass me with his swordsmanship.”
Archie can only fumble a reply, he’s finding it very difficult to meet the King’s eyes, being too distracted with thoughts of their precise shade, “Oh he is very good, my Lord. Very natural…” Archie trails off for fear he is danger of beginning to prattle. The King’s tone remains light, “But he says you are better. Perhaps you would like to show me on the morrow?”
Archie’s mouth has gone completely dry and he looks to Phillip for help. Phillip leans casually against his father and nods at Archie, “Archie is a Scotsman, Papa.” Archie is not sure this is a better topic but he nods, collaborating Phillip’s statement. The King for his part seems enthusiastic, “Are you indeed! My great grandmother was a Scottish princess you know. What clan are you then?”
Archie straightens up a little before stating, “Clan Kennedy, my Lord.”
Phillip interjects, “Archie’s grandfather fought for the Empress Maude during the Anarchy, Papa, and his Papa was a friend of Grandpapa Harry, may God deliver him from the Devil’s clutches.” Phillip casts a nervous look at his grandmother with this oath regarding his grandfather’s soul. The King does not fail to notice either and catches Archie’s eye, sharing the joke with him, Archie suddenly feels quite warm. The King asks, “Is that how you came to be in De Fourier’s household then, Archie? He was friend of my father too.”
Archie nods, “Yes, my Lord. My father sent me when I was the same age as Phillip, five years ago. I’m the third son you see.”
The King smiles and Archie’s feels a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, and perhaps a bit lower, “Really? I’m a third son too, yet here I am with a crown somewhere upstairs in my baggage, perhaps I shall show it you sometime, so you can see what third sons can aspire to.”
Archie finds he cannot find his tongue but it is no matter as the King stands, Archie only remembers as everyone else at the table clambers to their feet to stand too. The King turns to Phillip, “I shall see you in the morn then, my son, I am very glad to have you home.” With that he kisses Phillips forehead, nods at the company who bow as he departs.
~
Thomas had at least not disgraced himself when the King was present but soon after his departure Thomas’ head drops to the table and he begins to snore. Archie sighs but on seeing he is one of the few men still able to walk in a straight line it falls upon him to help Thomas to where De Fourier’s men are bedding down. As there are so many in attendance at the court and they are only squires they’ve found themselves relegated to outside the great hall. As he slings Thomas’ arm around his shoulder Phillip stands to assist, “Here let me help.”
Archie heaves the still snoring Thomas and grunts, “It’s fine. I have him.”
Phillip’s tone is the familiar one he uses when he wants not to be thought of as a child, “And do you know where you’re taking him? I grew up in this castle, Archie. In fact I was born in it. Let me help.”
Archie concedes with a nod and Phillip supports Thomas’ other side as he leads the way, “This corridor will be quicker.” The corridor Phillip leads them down is narrow and there is just enough room to maneuver Thomas between them. There are no torches lit but there are windows and moonlight provides their illumination. At first Archie thinks it is only a shadow he sees ahead of them but when he realises who it is he stops so abruptly that Phillip stumbles slightly. Jack steps forward, “Well, well, what do we have here?”
Archie’s does not think he has enough air in his lungs to push it out to form words. He usually just about manages to remain composed in Jack’s presence these days but to be trapped here in this confined space with him, with a drunk and a child…
He may have lost his tongue but Phillip hasn’t, he answers Jack briskly and with authority, offering no explanation, “Stand aside.”
Jack merely smirks, “You forget your manners, boy, and your place”
Archie glances at Phillip and sees the lines of his face set, “Now, Jack.”
Jack steps forward and Archie fights the urge to cringe away from him, Jack is close enough that Archie can smell the reek of wine from him, Jack hisses at Phillip as he moves towards him, Archie and Phillip both instinctively held in their place by the need to keep Thomas upright, “You stuck up little shit, don’t think just because..”
A sudden voice behind them causes Jack to come to a halt, “Everything alright here, lad?”
Archie turns and sees a man who had been pointed out to him in the great hall. Mercadier. The captain of the King’s mercenaries and one of the most feared men on the continent. It is clear he had been addressing Phillip. Phillip nods, “Yes, Monsieur Mercadier, we were just taking this short cut to get back to where we’re bedding down, Jack was on his way, weren’t you, Jack?”
Jack glances at Mercadier, then back to Phillip and with a look of loathing but without a word pushes past them. As he makes his way down the corridor Mercadier nods in Jack’s direction, “I think I’ll make sure your friend finds his way back to where he is meant to be rather than being allowed to roam freely.” He turns his attention back to Phillip, “And you get to where you’re meant to be too. It was I who advised your father that you were old enough to be allowed to stay with your friends when he would have had you sleep in your old nursery. Anymore wandering down dark corridors and I’ll advise him that you should sleep in your grandmother’s chambers where she will be more than happy to keep an eye on you.”
Phillip grins, “Yes, Monsieur. Good night, Monsieur.”
Archie mumbles his own good night and they continue to make their way down the corridor, hauling Thomas between them.
~
On arrival at the jousting grounds the next morning Archie is just in time to see Phillip make a run at the target and, as usually happens, miss wildly. The King is wearing an expression of amused dismay and has called Phillip over to him. As Phillip trots his horse back to his father the King spots Archie and gestures to the makeshift stand that has been set up, “Why do you not take a seat up there, Kennedy?”
Archie feels his face flush as he makes his way to his allocated seat, both at being signaled out by the King and because he sees that sitting in the stand is the young Queen; bundled in furs. Although it is a mild winter Archie supposes that her Spanish blood feels the slightest chill. Archie bows to her and she smiles up at him, dwarfed by her layers, as he introduces himself before sitting down beside her. She slowly repeats his unfamiliar name, “Ken-ne-dy, is that an English name?”
Archie bristles, “No, Madame, it is a Scottish name.”
Berengaria smiles again, “Ah, I apologise for I fear I have caused offence. I would not take kindly to be mistaken for Castilian after all! Excuse me but your French is very like the French of those I have met from England.”
Archie nods, it’s a fair point, “Yes, I lived in England before I lived in Anjou. I have not been to Scotland since I was six years old. My father had…difficulties with our neighbours so we moved to his English lands.”
“I have not yet been to England.” Berengaria pulls a very unqueenly face, “My mother by marriage says it is dreary, damp, place and I should count myself lucky if I never set foot in it. Is it as wet and cold as they say?”
It is Archie’s turn to smile, “I am the wrong person to ask, compared to Scotland it was always bright and warm, my primary memory of my homeland is of always being cold and damp.”
Berengaria is aghast, “Weather worse than England! I did not think it possible!” She is distracted from saying anything further by what is occurring on the field, “Oh look, my Lord husband is instructing Phillip now.”
Archie looks down on the field and sees that the King has climbed up behind Phillip on his horse and is instructing him on the best way to hold himself and the lance. Archie can see Phillip’s face tight with concentration and he occasionally nods at his father’s words. Berengaria turns to Archie, “I am very glad you were all able to attend. Phillip has spoken very fondly of you, he said at the table last night that you were like an elder brother to him.”
Archie is sure his face must be as red as beets now, he clears his throat, “He‘s a good lad and will make a fine elder brother to your own children, my Lady. “
Berengaria looks away at that and for some reason Archie feels he has said the wrong thing but he does now know what. Their attention is drawn to the field though. The King has swung down from Phillip’s horse and Phillip is making another attempt at the target at the other end of the field. No one cheers more loudly than Archie and Berengaria when this time he hits it.
~
The winter may be mild but a day spent outdoors still takes a toll and Archie is grateful at the close of the day to return to the great hall as the light fades. He had taken to the field himself soon after Phillip’s instruction with the lance. He had not sparred with the King but he had participated in good natured jousts with several knights and had emerged the victor in more than he lost. All in all it had been a good day. There is a warm fire, plenty of food and free flowing wine but Archie does not stay long as he feels the call of his pallet, the warmth and a full belly making him drowsy. He is humming the chords to a melody that was being played in the hall as he makes his way across the bailey. On looking up he sees Phillip in the distance entering the stables with a bucket of something Archie suspects is a treat for the little pony he dotes on. Archie takes a breath in order to call out a teasing remark but he is stopped by the sight of a figure slipping into the stables behind Phillip.
Jack.
His surge of frozen panic is momentarily allayed by the thought that surely there is a groom on duty in the stables before remembering he had seen the groom in the hall, had even spoken to him and laughed at the groom’s elaborate justifications for why he’d left his post.
Archie runs. Jack has only had a few minutes but on arrival Archie sees immediately it was enough. The horses are startled, braying and snorting and kicking. Phillip is on the ground and has either fallen onto his front or been pushed there. His eyes are closed and Archie can see blood at his temple and pooling on the stable floor amidst the hay. His hose have been pulled down and Jack is in the process of forcing up the boy’s tunic.
Jack does not get the opportunity to do anything further as Archie launches himself from the doorway. His momentum sends Jack flying and there is a satisfying crack as Jack’s head hits the wooden door of the nearest horse stall. Jack splutters as if he is going to say something but then slumps to the floor soundlessly. Archie turns his attention to Phillip, kneels beside him, places his hands on his shoulders and gently turns him onto his back, leans over to listen for any indication of breath.
There is a sudden muttering from the just outside the stable doors which becomes more distinct with nearing proximity, “I saw Thierry in the great hall earlier, I doubt he’ll be back here tonight…” Archie looks up at the approaching voices and sees one of the King’s knight’s accompanied by one of Queen Eleanor’s lady’s, their arms are linked and they are smiling until they see Archie, Jack and Phillip. Then their expressions freeze before collapsing into horror. Archie begins to explain they need to find a doctor when the knight drops the woman’s arm and draws the sword at his side, keeping his gaze on Archie he says, “Marie, get help, quickly.”
Marie does not hesitate and Archie can hear her calling out for aid as soon as she escapes through the doorway. It is only then that he realises how it must look.
~
The opening at the very top of the wall of the cell Archie is thrown in cannot even be properly described as a window but through it Archie can see the stars. It had all been very efficient; his incarceration. On the arrival of several knights the senior had taken one look at the scene and ordered Archie taken into custody. He had been taken firmly by the arm and marched off. Jack had been stirring by then but Phillip was still unconscious. A glance back over his shoulder had led Archie to witness Phillip limp in the arms of the knight who was carrying him out of the stable and towards the great tower where the Royal family resided.
Archie is startled when the door of the cell is flung open for he had expected to be here until morning. He is even more startled by the figure in the doorway for it is the King. Archie scrambles to his feet while saying, “My Lord, how is…” He does not get the change to finish the sentence for the King lunges towards him, thrusts his hands around Archie’s neck and pushes him against the wall so hard that Archie bites down on his tongue. The King does not notice, he is too busy choking him. The King’s fine features, which Archie has spent so much of his time in Poitiers thinking about, are so twisted in fury that Archie can well believe that the legends the House of Anjou are descended from demons are true. The sudden constriction in his throat causes him to choke and splutter, the pain travels down to his chest and with the blood in his mouth it is like drowning. Archie has no doubt that the King means to kill him. Archie does not notice the appearance of a new figure until a firm, ringing voice calls out. “Hang him in the morning if you like, Richard, but we do not strangle prisoners in their cells, we’re not barbarians. Let him go. Now.”
Archie is astonished when he is released, sinks down to his knees gasping for breath, he does not anticipate the sudden kick to his ribs. There is no other assault though as Queen Eleanor has entered the cell and bellows, “Enough of this! Wait outside or better yet go and join your wife’s vigil at your son’s bedside.”
The King’s reply is low, “I think you forget which one of us here is the monarch. He’s my prisoner and I’ll do what I like with him.”
Eleanor snorts, “You’re upset so I shall forgive your tone but remember who you speak to.”
Archie risks a glance up and sees mother and son glaring at each other. The King is the first to turn away and exits through the door. Eleanor remains and Archie is surprised when she comes to his side and enquires, “Are you alright?”
Archie nods and pulls himself upright, wipes at the blood and saliva on his chin, “How is Phillip?”
Eleanor brushes some dust off her gown with a grimace before providing a summary of the unfolding situation, “Still unconscious. He will either wake or he will not. The doctor cannot say either way. Your friend, and I use the term loosely, Jack, says he followed the two of you into the stable and found you’d assaulted Phillip and were attempting to sodomize him when Jack, who fancies himself the hero of his tale I suspect, interrupted you. You then attacked him for his valiant efforts at rescue. When you were found Jack was indeed unconscious and you were bent over Philip with his hose pulled down in what looked to be quite a compromising position. The problem is however I for one don’t believe a single word Jack says. Would you care to offer an alternative explanation?”
Archie is not sure if the burning in his throat is residual pain from his near strangulation or something else but manages to say, “He’s lying. I saw Jack follow Phillip in to the stable and chased after them, I did attack Jack but only to get him away from the boy. I would never hurt Phillip, I wouldn’t hurt any child.”
In the torch light he can see that Eleanor’s expression is not unkind but it is firm, “He’s thirteen, to many that’s old enough. It’s clear you’re fond of him, perhaps he rejected your advances and it got out of hand. It happens.”
Archie shakes his head, “No…I don’t deny I’m fond of him, but it is a brother’s fondness nothing more. I don’t know what you were like at thirteen my Lady, but Phillip has led a sheltered life¸ when it is just the two of us he still speaks mainly of his old nursemaid and his pony and the castle dogs, his papa. In many ways he is a child and I have no interest in little boys.”
Eleanor’s next question is “But you do in boys?” Archie is unable to answer. She continues, “I’ve seen you looking at my son and I recognise the look because I’ve seen it on his face often, while watching some knight or troubadour with a fine face and form, I’ve seen it while he’s watching you. Although not tonight admittedly, the only desire he felt tonight was for your death.” Her voice drops lower, “But an interest in boys does not equate to an interest in rape. Why were you so panicked by Jack following Phillip into the stable?”
Archie turns away from her to answer, “Because Jack…Phillip talks back, I talked back, once. Jack decided to teach me a lesson. He’d also noticed that I like to look at boys. He thought it was a suitable punishment.”
Archie has never told anyone and now he is here; in a dungeon in Poitiers, telling Eleanor of Aquitaine. He would laugh if not for the fact he fears he might then start to cry. He has nothing else to say and looks at the wall. He does not notice the Queen has come beside him until her hand is on his shoulder and the ache in his throat cracks when she says, “I believe you are telling the truth.”
~
Before departing Eleanor orders the guards outside to see that Archie is given food, wine and blankets. She explains to him that she thinks it is best he stays here for the moment for his own protection. Archie can only nod at her words. The guards look at him with such loathing that Archie realises it is not just the King Eleanor is trying to protect him from. This castle is full of men who would happily slit his throat for what they think he’s done to one of their own. They hand over the provisions that were ordered and leave him alone though. Eventually Archie falls asleep and on opening his eyes the cell is bright with winter sunlight. It takes him a moment to realise there is a figure standing beside him and he cannot help the startled yelp that escapes his lips. Mercadier’s unruffled expression gazes down at him, “The lad woke at daybreak. You’re exonerated and have to be released immediately. He’s asking to see you.”
Archie sits up to ask, “And Jack?”
Mercadier grunts, “Didn’t have the sense to escape in the night, although I was having him watched so he wouldn’t have gotten far even if he had. The King’s ordered him to be castrated then hung at dawn tomorrow. He’s in a less pleasant cell that this one.”
Archie can’t help raise an eyebrow, “This is your pleasant cells?”
Mercadier smiles grimly, “Of course, I didn’t think you’d done it for a moment. I’m a mercenary after all, do you think I’d have been a successful one if I didn’t know a sadistic bastard when I see one?”
~
On his release Archie is gruffly advised that ‘the little master’ would like to see him and he is ushered into the Royal rooms. He finds himself led through the door to an opulent bed chamber and is greeted with an excited exclamation of, “Archie! There you are!” Followed by a confused, “Where have you been?”
Phillip is sitting up in a large bed with heavy embroidered covers. He has clean linen strips bandaged round his head and is a little pale but otherwise seems to be alright. There are two large, long snouted and hairy, dogs lying across the bottom of the bed and Archie recognises them as belonging to the King. Berengaria is sitting at the bedside and seems to have been reading something aloud. She closes the book and stands, saying in her light accent, “Just because some of us have been sleepy heads does not mean we have all been slug-a-beds, Archie has duties to attend to. Is it not enough that I, Virgil and Ovid” Berengaria gestures to the dogs, “have been in constant attendance?” She glances quickly at Archie and Archie understands, they have not told Phillip that Archie was arrested. Her look is a warning that Archie is not to say anything either and Archie has to suppress a smile for he wonders how like her mother in law Berengaria realises she truly is. He’d wager that if you cut either of them open you’d see steel running through their core.
Phillip is still frowning, he leans forward, “What are those marks on your throat, Archie? It looks like…”
Phillip is interrupted by Berengaria, “Never mind what they are, have you ever met a nosier boy, Monsieur Kennedy?” She pushes at Phillip’s shoulders to get him to lie back down, “It is time for resting now, not talking, Archie will be here when you awaken, as will your father and I.”
Archie smiles and nods in assent but his stomach and chest are constricting, for he has only now realised that at some point he will have to face the King again. Berengaria leads him from the room and for want of something to say Archie asks, “Are those his old rooms? They are a little grander than he’s always described them.”
Berengaria glances up at him, “No, these are the Kings rooms. Phillip will stay here for the time being and the King will sleep on a pallet his squires have set up for him at the foot of the bed. She gestures to a door, “The King is through there, attending to some letters, he asked to see you once you had arrived.” She pauses, fixing her eyes on the clear finger marks on Archie’s throat, “He should not have done that last night, it is not honourable to kill a prisoner in such a way. His mother says it’s the Angevin temper but that does not make it right.” With that she turns and departs, leaving him alone outside the King’s door.
Archie knocks on the door, perhaps he’s not in there after all, but there is a brisk ‘Enter” from behind the wooden panel. Archie is surprised to find the King is alone, he is not sure if that will make this better or worse. They are both silent until the King clears his throat and stands, “I owe you an apology, Kennedy. There is no excuse for my behavior last night but…the thought I wasn’t there to protect him and that I have not been there to protect him for neigh on five years…but you were. I also owe you a debt of thanks.”
Archie does not know what the proper response should be. The sensible course of action would be to demurely accept the apology but in this moment he can feel every single mark on his throat as if the fingers are still pressing down. He decides on, “I’m glad it seems Phillip will recover.”
The King snorts softly as if amused, “A good answer, Christ knows I wouldn’t accept the apology of a man who had tried to strangle me the day before.” He sits and gestures for Archie to sit across from him, the King leans back in his chair before gesturing to the papers in front of him, “I’ve been looking into De Fourier’s household affairs, how long have things been amiss?”
Archie shrugs in his seat, “Since I arrived and that was five years past now. You should not think they are all like Jack…most of the men in the household are decent, if prone to the life of a wastrel due to lack of activity. It is regrettable though. My father always spoke so highly of De Fourier…”
The Kings nods, “As did mine. I can’t keep from thinking that if my father had been alive he would have seen that something was amiss, done something about it sooner…I briefly considered sending my mother to sort everything out, but no one deserves that, not even De Fourier.”
The King smiles at that and Archie finds the smile he offers in return is genuine, “Your mother is a great lady, I have no doubt she would be equal to the task.”
“Oh I don’t doubt it either, perhaps I’ll have her talk to him though, convince him that one who leads such as quiet life doesn’t need so many retainers. I want that household broken up and the sooner the better.”
It takes a moment for Archie to realise the implications of that, that if De Fourier’s household is broken up he loses his own position and without Jack to worry about anymore for the first time in years the thought of returning to De Fourier’s keep did not make him want to heave his stomach over his boots. He asks, “But what of those of us in the household?”
The King’s expression hardens, “Those who are capable will be found other places and those who are not are not my concern. I only speak of the knights and squires anyway; the stable boys and kitchen girls won’t be dragged from their hearths. I’ve no intention of depriving De Fourier of his lands.” The King picks up a sheet of paper from the table and hands it over, “You may as well have a look at this now. I’ve already decided what to do with you, Kennedy.”
Archie peers at the letter he is handed, it is a letter of introduction. Archie reads the first few lines before the recipient it is addressed to fully dawns on him. He looks up in shock but manages to splutter out, “The Marshall? You are sending me to squire for William Marshall?” Marshall was the greatest knight of the age, of any age some said, he was a living legend.
Archie feels his face fall at the King’s reply of “No.” The King carries on, “I am knighting you and then I am sending you to join Will’s household knights. Both my mother and wife inform me that a knighthood by my own hand is the very least I can do to show my gratitude and I have learned, Kennedy, that it is never wise to argue with the women of my family.”
The King has been smiling but his expression suddenly becomes more solemn, “Will is the best man I have ever known, I do not expect there to be the kind of…difficulties…that there were in De Fourier’s household, but I can assure you that if there is anything untoward you can tell Will immediately. You will be listened to, and you will be believed.”
Archie’s mouth has lost all of its moisture at the King’s words, with the realisation that Queen Eleanor must have told him. Yet even after knowing the King has agreed to knight him, is trusting in his abilities enough to send him the Marshall’s household, perhaps then he was never the one who should have felt ashamed of what happened. He stands and bows, “Thank you, my Lord.”
The King nods in acknowledgement and makes a gesture of dismissal, making it clear Archie is free to leave his presence.
~
He had not gone to see Jack’s punishment carried out. Thomas did and says that both the King and Phillip attended, that Phillip had stood beside his father and had not flinched from the sight once. He does not see much of Phillip in the time left before he prepares to leave for England. Archie is to leave the next day though so seeks Phillip out, he finds him sitting on a bench in the bailey, the two massive dogs belonging to the King lazing beside him. Phillip is polishing a sword and Archie can’t help nod to it, “That’s impressive, is it your father’s?”
Phillip makes a face, “No, it’s my Uncle Andre’s. I’ve been appointed his squire.”
Archie smiles at the news and Phillip’s apparent indignity. Andre De Chauvigny was a kinsman of the King but not Phillip’s uncle at all. De Chauvigny however was one of the King’s right hand men and placing Phillip with him essentially meant that Phillip would stay with the King and his household. Phillip goes on to explain, “Uncle Andre’s all very well and good, but he’s no William Marshall, is he?”
Archie raises his eyebrows at that, “You didn’t say that to him did you?”
Phillip sits up a little straighter, “I might have, he said any more cheek and I’d be squiring for his new baby son, which would mainly consist of cleaning up vomit and shit. Papa just laughed.”
Archie grins at this while Phillip utters a sigh full of melodrama, “You’re so lucky, Archie. I’d do anything to join the Marshall’s household.”
“Even go and live in England?”
Archie laughs at the face Phillip pulls at this question for he’d complained bitterly throughout his first autumn in Anjou, Archie can’t imagine how his southern blood would cope in an English winter. “Well perhaps not that. I might visit though, in the summer, if it’s a good summer. Grandmaman says sometimes you can barely tell the difference from winter.”
Phillip’s tone changes as he looks up at Archie, “Thank you, Archie, for everything you have done for me. You are a true friend, the Marshall is lucky to now have you in his service.”
For a moment Archie is not sure what to say, but then he offer Phillip a small nod, “It was my privilege, my Lord, Fitzroy.”
~
It has taken six weeks for Archie to arrive at the Marshall’s estate. He had to wait nine days for the weather to be calm enough to cross the Channel. It had started to snow on his approach but as he was a mile or two from his destination he’d pressed on. The flakes are landing on his eyelashes and causing cold drops to sting at his eyes. It’s a relief to canter into the bailey; he has high hopes of a warm fire and warmer stew. As he dismounts he notices a few have braved the cold, cloaks adorned, to greet him. As he turns one has reached him and underneath the hood Archie thinks he can see a mass of curled dark hair, his eyes travel down and meet warm, brown, eyes and their warmth travels down to Archie’s belly. A hand is held out, “You must be Kennedy? We were expecting you any day, King Richard sent a message ahead, I’m Horatio, one of the household knights, Lord Marshall asked that I see to your arrival and settling.”
Archie takes Horatio’s hand and finds himself regretting the fact he thought to put gloves on that morning.
Notes
For anyone who has just joined us ‘Phillip’ is Phillip of Cognac (born circa 1180 died sometime after 1201) the only acknowledged child of Richard I ‘Lionheart’.
Berengaria of Navarre is often portrayed as a meek, sad, figure. She couldn’t have been that meek though as after Richard’s death she badgered John for every penny of her dowry and when he failed to pay up she sold the rights to her dower lands to the French instead.
While squires are often portrayed these days as akin to servants they were actually knights in training. It was not, I suspect, very different from being a midshipman.
Poitiers, Aquitaine, 1194
Archie slides down beside Thomas on the bench in the great hall, leans in and asks, “Have you seen, Phillip? I would have thought he would have arrived by now.” Their party had arrived late to the Christmas court at Poitiers and Phillip had mumbled something about seeing to the horses and had taken off before Archie could stop him. As he waits for Thomas to reply he casts an eye over the other men in the hall; looking for Jack, his apprehension heightened by the fact Jack was seemingly missing too. It is a task he has taken on himself; to look after the younger lads; especially Phillip. Archie was by no means amongst the oldest of the squires in De Fourier’s household but he still saw the responsibility as his. While De Fourier had once been considered amongst the most prominent of the lords of the realm his best days were long past him. Families placed their sons in his household due to his past deeds but those sons found little opportunity for new advancement when they were there. De Fourier preferred his warm hearth to the battle field these days.
Thomas waves his goblet dismissively under Archie’s nose, already deep in his cups, “You coddle that boy, Archie, he’s thirteen not three. He’s probably….” Thomas is distracted by something behind Archie, in the archway entrance to the hall. Archie twists round and exhales the knot in his stomach through his nose, relaxing. Phillip has entered the hall, with the King, his father. The King’s arms are draped round Phillip’s shoulders and as they make their way to the dais they stop occasionally so the King can greet certain guests. Archie follows them and his gaze moves a little ahead to where Queen Eleanor and Queen Berengaria, the King’s mother and wife respectively, are sitting. From his seat he can see Eleanor watching the King and Phillip as they approach and Archie is suddenly reminded of a cat watching the world go by, Eleanor remains seated. The younger Queen however stands as the King and Phillip approach and Archie can see her smile is wide as she steps off the dais. Archie cannot hear what she says but she enfolds Phillip in her arms, kisses him and leads him on to the dais. As they approach Eleanor she gestures to Phillip and the boy leans down to kiss his grandmother, Archie notices Eleanor pat Phillip’s hand discreetly. Phillip is then seated between Berengaria and the King.
Archie is relieved for Phillip as he knew how nervous the boy had been about this reunion. During the spring Queen Berengaria had appeared at De Fourier’s walls, asking to speak with King Richard’s son. Phillip had chattered about her afterwards and how lovely she was until Jack had remarked, “But missing something between her legs for your father’s tastes, lad, don’t you think? Still I suppose he’ll be able to think of some Saracen catamite long enough to beget an heir on her, it’s what wives are for after all. Then you’ll see how much time she has for some whore’s whelp then.” Phillip had not replied and at the time Archie had thought him afraid, had been grateful at any rate that he hadn’t provoked Jack further. Suddenly remembering it though Archie realises that Phillip had watched Jack for the rest of that evening much the way Eleanor was watching proceedings in the hall now. Missing nothing that might one day be useful to know.
~
Archie settles down beside Thomas to eat and becomes embroiled in the discussion around him regarding the poetry of William IV, the Troubadour Duke of Aquitaine who was the current King’s great grandfather. He is so vehemently making his point that he does not notice his companions have fallen silent for a reason other than the infallibility of Archie’s argument. When he looks up with a frown at what they’re staring at he sees Phillip and King Richard, both looking amused, standing beside him. Archie jumps to his feet and stammers out, with a glance at Phillip, “My Lord, I did not realise…”
The King shrugs off Archie’s apology and gestures for Archie to return to the bench, sitting down beside him while Philip sits on his father’s other side. The rest of their corner pretends to carry on their conversation quietly. The King speaks, “My son tells me you have been his mentor these past months and that I have you to thank for the fact he will not embarrass me with his swordsmanship.”
Archie can only fumble a reply, he’s finding it very difficult to meet the King’s eyes, being too distracted with thoughts of their precise shade, “Oh he is very good, my Lord. Very natural…” Archie trails off for fear he is danger of beginning to prattle. The King’s tone remains light, “But he says you are better. Perhaps you would like to show me on the morrow?”
Archie’s mouth has gone completely dry and he looks to Phillip for help. Phillip leans casually against his father and nods at Archie, “Archie is a Scotsman, Papa.” Archie is not sure this is a better topic but he nods, collaborating Phillip’s statement. The King for his part seems enthusiastic, “Are you indeed! My great grandmother was a Scottish princess you know. What clan are you then?”
Archie straightens up a little before stating, “Clan Kennedy, my Lord.”
Phillip interjects, “Archie’s grandfather fought for the Empress Maude during the Anarchy, Papa, and his Papa was a friend of Grandpapa Harry, may God deliver him from the Devil’s clutches.” Phillip casts a nervous look at his grandmother with this oath regarding his grandfather’s soul. The King does not fail to notice either and catches Archie’s eye, sharing the joke with him, Archie suddenly feels quite warm. The King asks, “Is that how you came to be in De Fourier’s household then, Archie? He was friend of my father too.”
Archie nods, “Yes, my Lord. My father sent me when I was the same age as Phillip, five years ago. I’m the third son you see.”
The King smiles and Archie’s feels a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, and perhaps a bit lower, “Really? I’m a third son too, yet here I am with a crown somewhere upstairs in my baggage, perhaps I shall show it you sometime, so you can see what third sons can aspire to.”
Archie finds he cannot find his tongue but it is no matter as the King stands, Archie only remembers as everyone else at the table clambers to their feet to stand too. The King turns to Phillip, “I shall see you in the morn then, my son, I am very glad to have you home.” With that he kisses Phillips forehead, nods at the company who bow as he departs.
~
Thomas had at least not disgraced himself when the King was present but soon after his departure Thomas’ head drops to the table and he begins to snore. Archie sighs but on seeing he is one of the few men still able to walk in a straight line it falls upon him to help Thomas to where De Fourier’s men are bedding down. As there are so many in attendance at the court and they are only squires they’ve found themselves relegated to outside the great hall. As he slings Thomas’ arm around his shoulder Phillip stands to assist, “Here let me help.”
Archie heaves the still snoring Thomas and grunts, “It’s fine. I have him.”
Phillip’s tone is the familiar one he uses when he wants not to be thought of as a child, “And do you know where you’re taking him? I grew up in this castle, Archie. In fact I was born in it. Let me help.”
Archie concedes with a nod and Phillip supports Thomas’ other side as he leads the way, “This corridor will be quicker.” The corridor Phillip leads them down is narrow and there is just enough room to maneuver Thomas between them. There are no torches lit but there are windows and moonlight provides their illumination. At first Archie thinks it is only a shadow he sees ahead of them but when he realises who it is he stops so abruptly that Phillip stumbles slightly. Jack steps forward, “Well, well, what do we have here?”
Archie’s does not think he has enough air in his lungs to push it out to form words. He usually just about manages to remain composed in Jack’s presence these days but to be trapped here in this confined space with him, with a drunk and a child…
He may have lost his tongue but Phillip hasn’t, he answers Jack briskly and with authority, offering no explanation, “Stand aside.”
Jack merely smirks, “You forget your manners, boy, and your place”
Archie glances at Phillip and sees the lines of his face set, “Now, Jack.”
Jack steps forward and Archie fights the urge to cringe away from him, Jack is close enough that Archie can smell the reek of wine from him, Jack hisses at Phillip as he moves towards him, Archie and Phillip both instinctively held in their place by the need to keep Thomas upright, “You stuck up little shit, don’t think just because..”
A sudden voice behind them causes Jack to come to a halt, “Everything alright here, lad?”
Archie turns and sees a man who had been pointed out to him in the great hall. Mercadier. The captain of the King’s mercenaries and one of the most feared men on the continent. It is clear he had been addressing Phillip. Phillip nods, “Yes, Monsieur Mercadier, we were just taking this short cut to get back to where we’re bedding down, Jack was on his way, weren’t you, Jack?”
Jack glances at Mercadier, then back to Phillip and with a look of loathing but without a word pushes past them. As he makes his way down the corridor Mercadier nods in Jack’s direction, “I think I’ll make sure your friend finds his way back to where he is meant to be rather than being allowed to roam freely.” He turns his attention back to Phillip, “And you get to where you’re meant to be too. It was I who advised your father that you were old enough to be allowed to stay with your friends when he would have had you sleep in your old nursery. Anymore wandering down dark corridors and I’ll advise him that you should sleep in your grandmother’s chambers where she will be more than happy to keep an eye on you.”
Phillip grins, “Yes, Monsieur. Good night, Monsieur.”
Archie mumbles his own good night and they continue to make their way down the corridor, hauling Thomas between them.
~
On arrival at the jousting grounds the next morning Archie is just in time to see Phillip make a run at the target and, as usually happens, miss wildly. The King is wearing an expression of amused dismay and has called Phillip over to him. As Phillip trots his horse back to his father the King spots Archie and gestures to the makeshift stand that has been set up, “Why do you not take a seat up there, Kennedy?”
Archie feels his face flush as he makes his way to his allocated seat, both at being signaled out by the King and because he sees that sitting in the stand is the young Queen; bundled in furs. Although it is a mild winter Archie supposes that her Spanish blood feels the slightest chill. Archie bows to her and she smiles up at him, dwarfed by her layers, as he introduces himself before sitting down beside her. She slowly repeats his unfamiliar name, “Ken-ne-dy, is that an English name?”
Archie bristles, “No, Madame, it is a Scottish name.”
Berengaria smiles again, “Ah, I apologise for I fear I have caused offence. I would not take kindly to be mistaken for Castilian after all! Excuse me but your French is very like the French of those I have met from England.”
Archie nods, it’s a fair point, “Yes, I lived in England before I lived in Anjou. I have not been to Scotland since I was six years old. My father had…difficulties with our neighbours so we moved to his English lands.”
“I have not yet been to England.” Berengaria pulls a very unqueenly face, “My mother by marriage says it is dreary, damp, place and I should count myself lucky if I never set foot in it. Is it as wet and cold as they say?”
It is Archie’s turn to smile, “I am the wrong person to ask, compared to Scotland it was always bright and warm, my primary memory of my homeland is of always being cold and damp.”
Berengaria is aghast, “Weather worse than England! I did not think it possible!” She is distracted from saying anything further by what is occurring on the field, “Oh look, my Lord husband is instructing Phillip now.”
Archie looks down on the field and sees that the King has climbed up behind Phillip on his horse and is instructing him on the best way to hold himself and the lance. Archie can see Phillip’s face tight with concentration and he occasionally nods at his father’s words. Berengaria turns to Archie, “I am very glad you were all able to attend. Phillip has spoken very fondly of you, he said at the table last night that you were like an elder brother to him.”
Archie is sure his face must be as red as beets now, he clears his throat, “He‘s a good lad and will make a fine elder brother to your own children, my Lady. “
Berengaria looks away at that and for some reason Archie feels he has said the wrong thing but he does now know what. Their attention is drawn to the field though. The King has swung down from Phillip’s horse and Phillip is making another attempt at the target at the other end of the field. No one cheers more loudly than Archie and Berengaria when this time he hits it.
~
The winter may be mild but a day spent outdoors still takes a toll and Archie is grateful at the close of the day to return to the great hall as the light fades. He had taken to the field himself soon after Phillip’s instruction with the lance. He had not sparred with the King but he had participated in good natured jousts with several knights and had emerged the victor in more than he lost. All in all it had been a good day. There is a warm fire, plenty of food and free flowing wine but Archie does not stay long as he feels the call of his pallet, the warmth and a full belly making him drowsy. He is humming the chords to a melody that was being played in the hall as he makes his way across the bailey. On looking up he sees Phillip in the distance entering the stables with a bucket of something Archie suspects is a treat for the little pony he dotes on. Archie takes a breath in order to call out a teasing remark but he is stopped by the sight of a figure slipping into the stables behind Phillip.
Jack.
His surge of frozen panic is momentarily allayed by the thought that surely there is a groom on duty in the stables before remembering he had seen the groom in the hall, had even spoken to him and laughed at the groom’s elaborate justifications for why he’d left his post.
Archie runs. Jack has only had a few minutes but on arrival Archie sees immediately it was enough. The horses are startled, braying and snorting and kicking. Phillip is on the ground and has either fallen onto his front or been pushed there. His eyes are closed and Archie can see blood at his temple and pooling on the stable floor amidst the hay. His hose have been pulled down and Jack is in the process of forcing up the boy’s tunic.
Jack does not get the opportunity to do anything further as Archie launches himself from the doorway. His momentum sends Jack flying and there is a satisfying crack as Jack’s head hits the wooden door of the nearest horse stall. Jack splutters as if he is going to say something but then slumps to the floor soundlessly. Archie turns his attention to Phillip, kneels beside him, places his hands on his shoulders and gently turns him onto his back, leans over to listen for any indication of breath.
There is a sudden muttering from the just outside the stable doors which becomes more distinct with nearing proximity, “I saw Thierry in the great hall earlier, I doubt he’ll be back here tonight…” Archie looks up at the approaching voices and sees one of the King’s knight’s accompanied by one of Queen Eleanor’s lady’s, their arms are linked and they are smiling until they see Archie, Jack and Phillip. Then their expressions freeze before collapsing into horror. Archie begins to explain they need to find a doctor when the knight drops the woman’s arm and draws the sword at his side, keeping his gaze on Archie he says, “Marie, get help, quickly.”
Marie does not hesitate and Archie can hear her calling out for aid as soon as she escapes through the doorway. It is only then that he realises how it must look.
~
The opening at the very top of the wall of the cell Archie is thrown in cannot even be properly described as a window but through it Archie can see the stars. It had all been very efficient; his incarceration. On the arrival of several knights the senior had taken one look at the scene and ordered Archie taken into custody. He had been taken firmly by the arm and marched off. Jack had been stirring by then but Phillip was still unconscious. A glance back over his shoulder had led Archie to witness Phillip limp in the arms of the knight who was carrying him out of the stable and towards the great tower where the Royal family resided.
Archie is startled when the door of the cell is flung open for he had expected to be here until morning. He is even more startled by the figure in the doorway for it is the King. Archie scrambles to his feet while saying, “My Lord, how is…” He does not get the change to finish the sentence for the King lunges towards him, thrusts his hands around Archie’s neck and pushes him against the wall so hard that Archie bites down on his tongue. The King does not notice, he is too busy choking him. The King’s fine features, which Archie has spent so much of his time in Poitiers thinking about, are so twisted in fury that Archie can well believe that the legends the House of Anjou are descended from demons are true. The sudden constriction in his throat causes him to choke and splutter, the pain travels down to his chest and with the blood in his mouth it is like drowning. Archie has no doubt that the King means to kill him. Archie does not notice the appearance of a new figure until a firm, ringing voice calls out. “Hang him in the morning if you like, Richard, but we do not strangle prisoners in their cells, we’re not barbarians. Let him go. Now.”
Archie is astonished when he is released, sinks down to his knees gasping for breath, he does not anticipate the sudden kick to his ribs. There is no other assault though as Queen Eleanor has entered the cell and bellows, “Enough of this! Wait outside or better yet go and join your wife’s vigil at your son’s bedside.”
The King’s reply is low, “I think you forget which one of us here is the monarch. He’s my prisoner and I’ll do what I like with him.”
Eleanor snorts, “You’re upset so I shall forgive your tone but remember who you speak to.”
Archie risks a glance up and sees mother and son glaring at each other. The King is the first to turn away and exits through the door. Eleanor remains and Archie is surprised when she comes to his side and enquires, “Are you alright?”
Archie nods and pulls himself upright, wipes at the blood and saliva on his chin, “How is Phillip?”
Eleanor brushes some dust off her gown with a grimace before providing a summary of the unfolding situation, “Still unconscious. He will either wake or he will not. The doctor cannot say either way. Your friend, and I use the term loosely, Jack, says he followed the two of you into the stable and found you’d assaulted Phillip and were attempting to sodomize him when Jack, who fancies himself the hero of his tale I suspect, interrupted you. You then attacked him for his valiant efforts at rescue. When you were found Jack was indeed unconscious and you were bent over Philip with his hose pulled down in what looked to be quite a compromising position. The problem is however I for one don’t believe a single word Jack says. Would you care to offer an alternative explanation?”
Archie is not sure if the burning in his throat is residual pain from his near strangulation or something else but manages to say, “He’s lying. I saw Jack follow Phillip in to the stable and chased after them, I did attack Jack but only to get him away from the boy. I would never hurt Phillip, I wouldn’t hurt any child.”
In the torch light he can see that Eleanor’s expression is not unkind but it is firm, “He’s thirteen, to many that’s old enough. It’s clear you’re fond of him, perhaps he rejected your advances and it got out of hand. It happens.”
Archie shakes his head, “No…I don’t deny I’m fond of him, but it is a brother’s fondness nothing more. I don’t know what you were like at thirteen my Lady, but Phillip has led a sheltered life¸ when it is just the two of us he still speaks mainly of his old nursemaid and his pony and the castle dogs, his papa. In many ways he is a child and I have no interest in little boys.”
Eleanor’s next question is “But you do in boys?” Archie is unable to answer. She continues, “I’ve seen you looking at my son and I recognise the look because I’ve seen it on his face often, while watching some knight or troubadour with a fine face and form, I’ve seen it while he’s watching you. Although not tonight admittedly, the only desire he felt tonight was for your death.” Her voice drops lower, “But an interest in boys does not equate to an interest in rape. Why were you so panicked by Jack following Phillip into the stable?”
Archie turns away from her to answer, “Because Jack…Phillip talks back, I talked back, once. Jack decided to teach me a lesson. He’d also noticed that I like to look at boys. He thought it was a suitable punishment.”
Archie has never told anyone and now he is here; in a dungeon in Poitiers, telling Eleanor of Aquitaine. He would laugh if not for the fact he fears he might then start to cry. He has nothing else to say and looks at the wall. He does not notice the Queen has come beside him until her hand is on his shoulder and the ache in his throat cracks when she says, “I believe you are telling the truth.”
~
Before departing Eleanor orders the guards outside to see that Archie is given food, wine and blankets. She explains to him that she thinks it is best he stays here for the moment for his own protection. Archie can only nod at her words. The guards look at him with such loathing that Archie realises it is not just the King Eleanor is trying to protect him from. This castle is full of men who would happily slit his throat for what they think he’s done to one of their own. They hand over the provisions that were ordered and leave him alone though. Eventually Archie falls asleep and on opening his eyes the cell is bright with winter sunlight. It takes him a moment to realise there is a figure standing beside him and he cannot help the startled yelp that escapes his lips. Mercadier’s unruffled expression gazes down at him, “The lad woke at daybreak. You’re exonerated and have to be released immediately. He’s asking to see you.”
Archie sits up to ask, “And Jack?”
Mercadier grunts, “Didn’t have the sense to escape in the night, although I was having him watched so he wouldn’t have gotten far even if he had. The King’s ordered him to be castrated then hung at dawn tomorrow. He’s in a less pleasant cell that this one.”
Archie can’t help raise an eyebrow, “This is your pleasant cells?”
Mercadier smiles grimly, “Of course, I didn’t think you’d done it for a moment. I’m a mercenary after all, do you think I’d have been a successful one if I didn’t know a sadistic bastard when I see one?”
~
On his release Archie is gruffly advised that ‘the little master’ would like to see him and he is ushered into the Royal rooms. He finds himself led through the door to an opulent bed chamber and is greeted with an excited exclamation of, “Archie! There you are!” Followed by a confused, “Where have you been?”
Phillip is sitting up in a large bed with heavy embroidered covers. He has clean linen strips bandaged round his head and is a little pale but otherwise seems to be alright. There are two large, long snouted and hairy, dogs lying across the bottom of the bed and Archie recognises them as belonging to the King. Berengaria is sitting at the bedside and seems to have been reading something aloud. She closes the book and stands, saying in her light accent, “Just because some of us have been sleepy heads does not mean we have all been slug-a-beds, Archie has duties to attend to. Is it not enough that I, Virgil and Ovid” Berengaria gestures to the dogs, “have been in constant attendance?” She glances quickly at Archie and Archie understands, they have not told Phillip that Archie was arrested. Her look is a warning that Archie is not to say anything either and Archie has to suppress a smile for he wonders how like her mother in law Berengaria realises she truly is. He’d wager that if you cut either of them open you’d see steel running through their core.
Phillip is still frowning, he leans forward, “What are those marks on your throat, Archie? It looks like…”
Phillip is interrupted by Berengaria, “Never mind what they are, have you ever met a nosier boy, Monsieur Kennedy?” She pushes at Phillip’s shoulders to get him to lie back down, “It is time for resting now, not talking, Archie will be here when you awaken, as will your father and I.”
Archie smiles and nods in assent but his stomach and chest are constricting, for he has only now realised that at some point he will have to face the King again. Berengaria leads him from the room and for want of something to say Archie asks, “Are those his old rooms? They are a little grander than he’s always described them.”
Berengaria glances up at him, “No, these are the Kings rooms. Phillip will stay here for the time being and the King will sleep on a pallet his squires have set up for him at the foot of the bed. She gestures to a door, “The King is through there, attending to some letters, he asked to see you once you had arrived.” She pauses, fixing her eyes on the clear finger marks on Archie’s throat, “He should not have done that last night, it is not honourable to kill a prisoner in such a way. His mother says it’s the Angevin temper but that does not make it right.” With that she turns and departs, leaving him alone outside the King’s door.
Archie knocks on the door, perhaps he’s not in there after all, but there is a brisk ‘Enter” from behind the wooden panel. Archie is surprised to find the King is alone, he is not sure if that will make this better or worse. They are both silent until the King clears his throat and stands, “I owe you an apology, Kennedy. There is no excuse for my behavior last night but…the thought I wasn’t there to protect him and that I have not been there to protect him for neigh on five years…but you were. I also owe you a debt of thanks.”
Archie does not know what the proper response should be. The sensible course of action would be to demurely accept the apology but in this moment he can feel every single mark on his throat as if the fingers are still pressing down. He decides on, “I’m glad it seems Phillip will recover.”
The King snorts softly as if amused, “A good answer, Christ knows I wouldn’t accept the apology of a man who had tried to strangle me the day before.” He sits and gestures for Archie to sit across from him, the King leans back in his chair before gesturing to the papers in front of him, “I’ve been looking into De Fourier’s household affairs, how long have things been amiss?”
Archie shrugs in his seat, “Since I arrived and that was five years past now. You should not think they are all like Jack…most of the men in the household are decent, if prone to the life of a wastrel due to lack of activity. It is regrettable though. My father always spoke so highly of De Fourier…”
The Kings nods, “As did mine. I can’t keep from thinking that if my father had been alive he would have seen that something was amiss, done something about it sooner…I briefly considered sending my mother to sort everything out, but no one deserves that, not even De Fourier.”
The King smiles at that and Archie finds the smile he offers in return is genuine, “Your mother is a great lady, I have no doubt she would be equal to the task.”
“Oh I don’t doubt it either, perhaps I’ll have her talk to him though, convince him that one who leads such as quiet life doesn’t need so many retainers. I want that household broken up and the sooner the better.”
It takes a moment for Archie to realise the implications of that, that if De Fourier’s household is broken up he loses his own position and without Jack to worry about anymore for the first time in years the thought of returning to De Fourier’s keep did not make him want to heave his stomach over his boots. He asks, “But what of those of us in the household?”
The King’s expression hardens, “Those who are capable will be found other places and those who are not are not my concern. I only speak of the knights and squires anyway; the stable boys and kitchen girls won’t be dragged from their hearths. I’ve no intention of depriving De Fourier of his lands.” The King picks up a sheet of paper from the table and hands it over, “You may as well have a look at this now. I’ve already decided what to do with you, Kennedy.”
Archie peers at the letter he is handed, it is a letter of introduction. Archie reads the first few lines before the recipient it is addressed to fully dawns on him. He looks up in shock but manages to splutter out, “The Marshall? You are sending me to squire for William Marshall?” Marshall was the greatest knight of the age, of any age some said, he was a living legend.
Archie feels his face fall at the King’s reply of “No.” The King carries on, “I am knighting you and then I am sending you to join Will’s household knights. Both my mother and wife inform me that a knighthood by my own hand is the very least I can do to show my gratitude and I have learned, Kennedy, that it is never wise to argue with the women of my family.”
The King has been smiling but his expression suddenly becomes more solemn, “Will is the best man I have ever known, I do not expect there to be the kind of…difficulties…that there were in De Fourier’s household, but I can assure you that if there is anything untoward you can tell Will immediately. You will be listened to, and you will be believed.”
Archie’s mouth has lost all of its moisture at the King’s words, with the realisation that Queen Eleanor must have told him. Yet even after knowing the King has agreed to knight him, is trusting in his abilities enough to send him the Marshall’s household, perhaps then he was never the one who should have felt ashamed of what happened. He stands and bows, “Thank you, my Lord.”
The King nods in acknowledgement and makes a gesture of dismissal, making it clear Archie is free to leave his presence.
~
He had not gone to see Jack’s punishment carried out. Thomas did and says that both the King and Phillip attended, that Phillip had stood beside his father and had not flinched from the sight once. He does not see much of Phillip in the time left before he prepares to leave for England. Archie is to leave the next day though so seeks Phillip out, he finds him sitting on a bench in the bailey, the two massive dogs belonging to the King lazing beside him. Phillip is polishing a sword and Archie can’t help nod to it, “That’s impressive, is it your father’s?”
Phillip makes a face, “No, it’s my Uncle Andre’s. I’ve been appointed his squire.”
Archie smiles at the news and Phillip’s apparent indignity. Andre De Chauvigny was a kinsman of the King but not Phillip’s uncle at all. De Chauvigny however was one of the King’s right hand men and placing Phillip with him essentially meant that Phillip would stay with the King and his household. Phillip goes on to explain, “Uncle Andre’s all very well and good, but he’s no William Marshall, is he?”
Archie raises his eyebrows at that, “You didn’t say that to him did you?”
Phillip sits up a little straighter, “I might have, he said any more cheek and I’d be squiring for his new baby son, which would mainly consist of cleaning up vomit and shit. Papa just laughed.”
Archie grins at this while Phillip utters a sigh full of melodrama, “You’re so lucky, Archie. I’d do anything to join the Marshall’s household.”
“Even go and live in England?”
Archie laughs at the face Phillip pulls at this question for he’d complained bitterly throughout his first autumn in Anjou, Archie can’t imagine how his southern blood would cope in an English winter. “Well perhaps not that. I might visit though, in the summer, if it’s a good summer. Grandmaman says sometimes you can barely tell the difference from winter.”
Phillip’s tone changes as he looks up at Archie, “Thank you, Archie, for everything you have done for me. You are a true friend, the Marshall is lucky to now have you in his service.”
For a moment Archie is not sure what to say, but then he offer Phillip a small nod, “It was my privilege, my Lord, Fitzroy.”
~
It has taken six weeks for Archie to arrive at the Marshall’s estate. He had to wait nine days for the weather to be calm enough to cross the Channel. It had started to snow on his approach but as he was a mile or two from his destination he’d pressed on. The flakes are landing on his eyelashes and causing cold drops to sting at his eyes. It’s a relief to canter into the bailey; he has high hopes of a warm fire and warmer stew. As he dismounts he notices a few have braved the cold, cloaks adorned, to greet him. As he turns one has reached him and underneath the hood Archie thinks he can see a mass of curled dark hair, his eyes travel down and meet warm, brown, eyes and their warmth travels down to Archie’s belly. A hand is held out, “You must be Kennedy? We were expecting you any day, King Richard sent a message ahead, I’m Horatio, one of the household knights, Lord Marshall asked that I see to your arrival and settling.”
Archie takes Horatio’s hand and finds himself regretting the fact he thought to put gloves on that morning.
Notes
For anyone who has just joined us ‘Phillip’ is Phillip of Cognac (born circa 1180 died sometime after 1201) the only acknowledged child of Richard I ‘Lionheart’.
Berengaria of Navarre is often portrayed as a meek, sad, figure. She couldn’t have been that meek though as after Richard’s death she badgered John for every penny of her dowry and when he failed to pay up she sold the rights to her dower lands to the French instead.
While squires are often portrayed these days as akin to servants they were actually knights in training. It was not, I suspect, very different from being a midshipman.