The Boy King (Violent Delights Book 13)

Chapter 2: "All his senses have but human conditions"

Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester

"I'm not saying I think you're the one who bloodied your sister's nose. I'm saying that if you find out who did even if that is you, there's sweets in it for you," I say, shuffling through an endless list of receipts I don't think I actually need.
"I wasn't there papa," Arthur says, rubbing his face with his fist.
"Yes, but you can do a bit of spying can't you? What else are you doing with your time you're like four—? Here I need that ledger," I say, picking him up and moving him to sit on a clearer portion of my desk.
"Okay," Arthur says, quietly, "Will you come and say goodnight?"
"No, I've got people over for a few days, so can you and your sister play quietly for me and try to stay out from underfoot?" I ask.
He nods.
"Good lad, how did your lessons go, were you good?" I ask.
"Yeah. I'm not good at them."
"Not being good at things should never stop us from doing them, now, that's advice from my dad, your grandad, it's how he became king," I say.
"He told it to you?"
"No, he was living proof—get out, Warwick," I sigh, seeing the older man hovering in the doorway.
"You're joking right now," Warwick walks in anyway, gesturing vaguely to the child sitting on my desk.
"I don't know who this boy is I've never seen him before in my life, Arthur, tell the Earl of Warwick you don't know who I am," I say.
"I've never met the Duke before. I'm an orphan," Arthur says, dutifully.
"Thanks, mate, now, run along to your nurses I think the Earl will want to talk to me at length," I say, picking him up and giving him a good squeeze.
"Yes, papa," Arthur says, hugging me tightly.
"I'm proud of you, go on now, be good," I say, setting him down. The little boy scurries off dutifully.
Warwick is glaring at me.
"Did you come here to say something or just to interrupt my work?"
"Playing with your bastard is work?"
"I don't really know who that child is. Purpose, Warwick?" I ask, not looking up.
He sighs, "The guests are arriving. I'm not at all comfortable with this."
"Of course you're not it will require you to actually fulfill your duties as my brother intended," I snarl.
"The late king would know how to handle his son without resorting to violence," Warwick says.
"Well shame he's dead, and we're here with his obstinate offspring," I say.
"Don't speak of him like that."
"He should have lived to box my mouth, which he would have done by the way," I say, "Now I'll meet you downstairs."
"You're bringing your wife?"
"I don't know what cause you think you have to question who I do and don't bring places," I say.
"I'm asking because she's standing in the doorway."
"Oh right, leave us, please," I say, looking up. Eleanor is waiting in the doorway.
"I don't want to disturb," she says, clearly about to disturb before I drive someone to fisticuffs. Again. Today.
"I'll see you downstairs," Warwick says, shaking his head as he leaves.
"You want to come and see the show?" I ask Eleanor, looking back down at my work.
"Not really but I thought I would," she says.
"Best not, none of them really like you."
"They don't really like you either."
"You're funny," I say, coming around the desk to kiss her, "But they're my family, for my sins. What, you think that I can't get through the engagement without having a row with at least one of my relatives?"
"I think history has shown us that," she says, rubbing my arms.
"No. I'll be good. My tongue can be ruled. I've got your bed awaiting me, haven't I?" I ask, kissing her mouth again.
"Yes you do, so just get it over with," she sighs.
"I shall, I can be pleasing and charming, free of malice and my perpetual ill temper in short bursts. How else do you think I seduced you?"
"I was there and you were not any of those things I just like you like this," she laughs.
"Damn thought I had evidence. Anyway I got the kids."
"I met their mothers who you PAID to put up with you and the things you say and the way you are," she laughs.
"Stop bringing that up when I'm trying to seduce you, woman," I say, kissing her neck.
"Get it over with, and come to bed tonight," she says stroking my hair.
"All right, but it'll be dull so you'd better be looking pretty," I say.
"I shall," she says, smiling at me.

Catherine of Valois

I am just naturally assuming Humphrey is up to something vile. I don't know what, but I unfortunately I know that man.
It's evening by the time we get Eltham. I don't think Owen is any more at ease than I am. He sneaks me a few long glances, shaking his head a bit. So he's ill at ease too he has that feral look he gets when he thinks the best course of action would be to throw me over his shoulder and just start walking towards Wales because he truly believes if he's in the middle of the Welsh mountains he'll just magically be safe from harm. Not that I wouldn't like being thrown over his shoulder but there's a certain level of practicality there I don't think, however much he wants us to be, we are actually in walking distance of Wales.
When we arrive however, my fears are a bit abated. I'm not the only one who's been summoned it seems. It doesn't mean it's not a trap. But I won't be alone in the trap.
"Catherine, you look lovely this evening! Doesn't the queen look lovely, uncle? I swear you get prettier by the hour my dear," Edmund Beaufort simply purrs, the moment he lays eyes on me. This man is very good for my self esteem. A few years my junior, oozing the traditional Beaufort confidence, he's everything I look for in a nobleman. Self serving, charming, complimentary, and with a healthy regard for my opinion if only because it means he gets to flirt with me. I've got nothing against being flirted with, and Edmund Beaufort has yet to meet a man, woman, or dowager queen upon whom he doesn't turn his fatal charm. He's not even strictly handsome, with a chubby face and the usual Beaufort black hair, but he's not letting that stop him. What God didn't give him in looks he made up for in sickening charm. He's the cousin of my husband, it took me several hours of listening to James of Scotland speak unintelligibly but, apparently Edmund Beaufort is the son, of my late husband's uncle, but when he was small his father died, so his mother, a Holland, remarried my late husband's brother, and so he was raised as a nephew to my husband and Humphrey. He's Earl of Somerset now. It still doesn't make sense but there it is.
"Yeah, she's fine, do either of you know why we've been summoned?" Cardinal Beaufort is not charming. Unless he wants to be. He's one of the more disgusting, duplicit, two faced, soulless, men I have ever met and I was married to the late king.
"No idea, but it should be good if Humphrey actually wants to speak to all of us. You look divine I do think that is your color Catherine. Ride with me tomorrow? I'm sure whatever's going on is deadly dull," Edmund says, coming to kiss my cheeks.
"You don't know? You didn't—do something?" Cardinal Beaufort asks, very nicely, but directly implying someone is pregnant or dead.
"No?" Edmund says, hand to his chest, delicately, clearly hurt but also he has no reason to be hurt so it's all for show.
"Because I invited Exeter so he's beaten us here," Cardinal Beaufort says, looking at me critically, somehow he has a cup of wine, to gesture with, "If either of you know anything that you don't think I should know, but Humphrey is going to reveal, if you want me to be on your side, you need to inform me now. Otherwise I'll pick sides at my own discretion as is amusing to me at the time."
"I thought you were always on your side, uncle?" I ask, icily.
"We've trained the french princess well," Cardinal Beaufort says, clapping his hands, "A round of applause for the dowager queen."
"I left a decent hunt for this, we know little, and spare her your charms uncle, she can't leave but it's pleasanter if she likes us," Edmund says.
"I have no charms, that is my primary appeal as a Beaufort and what has endeared me to the Pope," Cardinal Beaufort says. I doubt if anyone truly likes the man. Especially not a man of God. These men aren't of God.
We progress inside. Edmund takes my arm and I'm sure Owen rolls his eyes. He's nowhere near us, but I can tell. His baby in me kicks a bit in protest of so much exposure to the Beaufort-Lancaster family which is solidly understandable. I want to leave as soon as possible there are far too many of them. Edmund and his uncle have yet to cease their verbal sparring I just chose to ignore it for a bit.
I have to. The worst of them is yet to come.
Humphrey isn't a showman like my late husband. He's the human equivalent of a pebble in your shoe. You don't notice him until he's already thoroughly annoyed you for the rest of the day. We're allowed to go to our rooms then we are expected to be exposed to him over a late supper. Which is fine by me, I have low expectations for supper with my husband's family, however those very low expectations do involve there being some food.
There is no food.
There's Humphrey having a violent, but utterly meaningless conversation with the Duke of Exeter. Humphrey looks three stages closer to losing what is left his mind, and clearly has not had a share in his family's single grain of communal empathy in the past five years.
"Why are you here? I did not ask you here," Humphrey is saying, glaring up at the Exeter, a burly, not particularly clever man who they call Jack.
"I'm telling you someone sent me a note saying to come. Why would I lie about that?" Jack asks.
"I don't know! How about you tell me who sent you this imaginary note?" Humphrey asks, blood boiling.
"I don't know. I couldn't read the signature. But if it wasn't yours who would ask me to be around you?" Jack reasons.
"Where is this note? I'll prove it's not my hand," Humphrey says.
"I threw it away."
"Why?"
"I didn't know who it was from," Jack says, reasonably.
"You—threw it away? Despite not knowing who it was from?" Humphrey asks.
"Aye, I couldn't make it out so I got rid of it. It didn't seem worth saving when I didn't know who sent it. Figured I'd just come I'd read that bit. It did look like your signature? Could you sign something and perhaps I'd recognize it—?"
"No," Humphrey breaths.
"Why not? I mean the signature didn't start with an H, and it didn't end with a Y I know that. But I did really think it was yours. It was left handed."
"I am not left handed," Humphrey says.
"Are you sure? Because I thought you were."
Humphrey has to pause to breath, "How. Do you. Get through. Your life?"
"What?" Jack frowns.
"Different question. Nay, suggestion. Since I did not ask you to come here. Why don't you just leave?" Humphrey asks, "Nobody likes me."
"Oh, so he knows, and yet..." Edmund says, coming in to sit next to me. The arguing cousins haven't noticed I'm here.
"That is true but I think someone here wanted to talk to me—?"
"No! I promise you Jack nobody has ever wanted to talk to you," Humphrey snarls.
"Oh. Well I can't leave now."
"Why not?" Humphrey breaths.
"I've lost the boys now. I won't be able to find 'em again until they get good and hungry they'll come running back," Jack says, nodding. This is not an act or a design I've sadly known this man for nearly a decade this is constant. My husband kept him as a pet much like his ugly attack dogs but somewhat less intelligent if longer living.
"What boys?" Humphrey asks.
"My boys, Will and Robby, they ran right off. I don't know where they are. If you want us to go and it's been a mistake then I'll tell the men to catch them as soon as they see them but till then it's best to just wait," Jack says.
"Jesus, Jack, you can't just let your bastards loose," Humphrey says.
"Why? Yours are."
"Yes, that is why in fact you answered your own question."
"What?"
"What?"
"Hello boys, nephews, your ladyship, children hiding under furniture," Cardinal Beaufort says, walking in. A couple of grubby boys bolt out giggling. I can't help but smile. The children are clearly having fun. I know my brother and I used to creep about at that age, they're only little. Edmund laughs as well, equally entertained.
"There, those were probably yours even if not please take them anyway, and leave, go," Humphrey says, snapping his fingers.
"Oh, wait. I think I did bring all three because I think Tommy did wind up coming. Might be looking for three, if you see a third later on—," Jack says, fully prepared to leave with the incorrect number of children.
"Thank you for coming, Jack," Cardinal Beaufort says, reclining in a chair.
"Your welcome I don't know who sent for me," Jack says.
"Cousin. I truly believe he sent for you—uncle," Humphrey says, a vein in his neck standing out, "Why did you invite my cousin here?"
"Oh you wrote to me?" Jack asks.  
"I like to have friends about," Cardinal Beaufort says, smiling charmingly. He and Humphrey have been rowing since my husband passed, mostly with issues due to Humphrey's personality and who he chooses to be. It's less serious and more like a couple of dogs scrapping over meat. Except the meat is the kingdom of England. And Cardinal Beaufort doesn't strictly want it he simply finds it amusing that Humphrey can't handle it.
"Are you sure you wrote to me? I didn't know you were left handed," Jack says.
"I'm not," Cardinal Beaufort says.
"Forget about the note," Humphrey says to Jack.
"You've been talking about the note—,"
"Yes and now I have a headache, look I would have been less inconvenienced and offended by an armed escort uncle," Humphrey sighs.
"I know," Cardinal Beaufort purrs, "Come sit by me, Jack, that vein in your cousins' neck isn't looking well."
"Look, Humphrey why are we here?" I ask, because I know these men, they'll keep at it till sunrise and apparently Humphrey isn't even going to give me food while I watch, "I don't see any supper, and your note was rather cryptic."
"Well you've no official duties I didn't see a last minute request as a problem," Humphrey snarls. I didn't care to have official duties and it's not as though anyone trusts me anyway. I started refusing to escort the little king places a couple years ago. It's not like he's my son, he belongs to all of them I just bore him, and Humphrey only wanted me as a prop.
"I know you seep venom dear nephew but would you mind getting to the point? I've nothing against political coups and assassination attempts but it's getting rather late to keep the lady from her supper?" Cardinal Beaufort asks, crossing his legs lazily. It is not hyperbole, I have known this family for almost ten years and they do have nothing against coups and assassination attempts. They look forward to them.
"I'm waiting for someone to join us. And the lady looks perfectly well," Humphrey snarls. It's a dig since I look plump, which I am because I'm pregnant but he's saying it because he feels like I don't do anything which is correct and I'm fine like this.
"Dearest cousin whose time I value so well, would you do us the honor of telling us why you asked us all here?" Edmund asks, overly nicely, spinning a hand.
"Sarcasm? Really?" Humphrey asks.
"I know I wasn't asked here by you but by him but I still want to know what's going on because I'm more confused?" Jack says.
"You're always confused," Humphrey says.
"Oh my god you are exhausting I will stand up and leave if you don't tell us WITHOUT some hidden jib or comment, what it is we are needed for? Because if it was merely to listen to your barbed tongue I will go," I say.
"You heard the lady," Cardinal Beaufort says, "I'll go with her."
"You wouldn't go. You're having fun, look at you," Humphrey says, gesturing to Cardinal Beaufort who is tipped back in his chair, holding goblet of wine he brought with him probably from his home, legs crossed, as entertained as at a Twelfth Night mask. "You're having a perfectly good time. You love watching me suffer it's why you're not invited to my death bed."
"HUMPHREY," all of us say.
"It's to do with the king," Humphrey says.
"The most descriptive sentence ever made in the land, why?" Cardinal Beaufort asks.
"If I had a moment to finish—,"
"It's been ages, please go on, with no sarcasm, my dearest cousin," Edmund groans, "We're all dying of suspense and exposure to your esteemed self."
"He's clearly enjoying this," Humphrey says, pointing at Cardinal Beaufort who is unwrapping food he also brought with him.
"I'm not, I'm suffering, this is worse than crusade—Lady Catherine would you like dried herring?" Cardinal Beaufort asks, nicely.
"No thank you," I say, sea food turns my stomach, especially now. I used to like it before I got married.
"Jack?" Cardinal Beaufort asks, still eating.
"Stop distributing food!" Humphrey says.
"Well get to your point, man!" Cardinal Beaufort laughs, not at all perturbed, as Jack accepts the food.
"What to do with the king?" I ask, because I remembered the point I'm sure none of them did.
"His tutors who are coming presently required guidance and they did not accept mine," Humphrey basically snarls.
"And how did that require all of us?" I ask, "We pay two people to make decisions why does this involve me?"
"Oh my god I've never agreed with you before, that's what I said this morning. I did not anticipate this," Humphrey says, just staring at me.
"What decision to do with the king?" Cardinal Beaufort asks, frowning a little.
"One which I am going to tell you," Humphrey says.
"I'm going to just leave it probably doesn't require all of us," I say.
"No, I don't feel like reliving it and telling you what happened you have to live it with me," Edmund says, staying me with a hand.
"We can both leave," I point out.
"Stop talking," Humphrey says, holding up a hand, "I'm not the reason this is taking so long—,"
"Yes you are," all of us except Jack he's staring at the wall.
"Wait did something important happen? I've not been listening," Jack says.
"No. Nothing important has happened," Cardinal Beaufort says, very nicely.
"Where did you get that cup, it's not one of mine—?" Humphrey frowns.
"I brought it with me," Cardinal Beaufort says.
"Why?" Edmund asks. I wasn't even going to ask.
"I was drinking out of it as I left, so I elected to carry it with me and this way people simply refill it and I never had to ask for one, is that relevant?" Cardinal Beaufort asks.
"I have much to learn from you, uncle," Edmund says.
"Everyone has much to learn from me," Cardinal Beaufort says, "I'm one of the Crown Jewels at this point."
"You are not," Humphrey says.
"Is there not a way you all could have done this—without me?" I ask.
"Sorry, would you like to be escorted somewhere?" Jack asks, very nicely. My late husband told him exactly once to make sure I was taken anywhere I needed and he's followed that command for a solid nine years now. Once I asked him to take me to France, just to see if it would work, and he was going to. Humphrey stopped him.
"It's very very, very tempting but thank you, Jack, I'll give my brother five more minutes," I say.
There's a knock at the door, heralding the entrance of Warwick, and a lady named Alice she's the little king's governess or something of that nature. I like her enough I think she judges me for doing very little with the king of England who I gave birth to. Warwick is a friend of my late husband's and therefore entirely vile.
"Hello, Warwick," Jack says, amiably, as the two do the proper introductions and bow and curtsy to us.
"How fairs the king?" Cardinal Beaufort asks.
"He's fine," Humphrey says, even though as usual nobody wished him to speak.
"Lady Butler, to what do we owe the pleasure?" Edmund asks, cocking his head, clearly intrigued.
"As minders of the king, they are seeking counsel regarding his lessons, and discipline. And they did not take my counsel," Humphrey says, folding his arms, clearly pleased like he expects all of us to agree with him.
"To do with what? Speak, Warwick," Cardinal Beaufort says, frowning a little and leaning forward.
"This morning, when the king was summoned for his Latin examination he—refused. He refused to do any of his lessons today, and simply returned to his room," Warwick says.
"All right?" I ask, confused, "And?"
"And the behavior is entirely unusual for the king. He's quite prepared for the examination and he's always obedient about his lessons. However today he refused most stubbornly," Alice says, upset even talking about it.
"What—he's seven," I say.
"Yes, um, I recall being seven that's sounding rather typical? I don't see why we're here?" Edmund backs me up since the others were not going to speak.
"As Lady Butler said this is distinctly out of character. And it occurred to us given the obstinate of the refusal and the possibility of it getting out of hand—perhaps the time had come to—discipline him in some fashion, but neither one of us were comfortable with the idea or making the decision," Warwick says.
"Yet we didn't want to spoil him by simply letting the incident go. His father's instructions were explicit that the boy should be disciplined to prevent any ostentatious behavior," Lady Butler says.
"Let me —-just—are you saying you've never disciplined the boy?" Jack asks, holding up a hand.
"I think we may have found the reason he's refusing to do his lessons now," I scoff.
"We've never had the cause," Lady Butler says, bristling, "He's never acted out before."
"All right wait a minute this is good I'm glad I'm here—you expect me to believe that a seven year old child has never talked back before?" Edmund asks.
"Not to cause any concern," Alice says.
"He'll say something like he doesn't like doing a lesson and then I say 'well you really have to so you can learn to be a good king' and then he immediately does it, no protest, and if he's tired or the like sometimes he'll weep but he'll still do the work to be a good king he's quite set on it," Warwick says.
"But today he simply refused?" Cardinal Beaufort asks.
"Yes, he even stamped his foot and said he didn't have to as he was king he was electing to do it later. He's never been so defiant," Alice says.
"Therefore, I said, give him a lash or three, and then make him do his work because he's a child, and king or not he does need to follow the rules of his elders as he's seven," Humphrey puts in.
"His father would not have wanted the boy simply to be lashed," Alice says, "The instructions are to lash him if he's non compliant so he learns modesty and grace the child exhibits both."
"Except today apparently," I say.
"All right, stop a moment—that is exactly what his father expected. My step-father had me and my brothers lashed when we stole his wine, and we were still drunk so he and the late king got to watch, and laugh," Edmund says, "Jack, back me up here."
"Jack?" Warwick frowns.
"I ah—all right his father once made me do sprints up a hill, because I'd gotten drunk," Jack winces a little.
"How old were you?" Warwick asks.
"Sixteen. It was Christmas," Jack says.
"I remember that," Cardinal Beaufort smiles a little, sipping his wine.
"The point is if it's votes you're after for his father's wishes go ahead and spank him, like, a little, it sounds like he was talking back," Edmund says, shrugging.
"See?" Humphrey says, "Simple. You two, go, discipline the boy."
"I'm not—comfortable with that," Warwick says.
"He's never behaved like this he's always very good," Alice protests.
"I'm not even saying he doesn't deserve it. I'm saying it would be worse because he'd see I can't do it, and I can't, he gets little tears on his little nose and talks in that sweet little voice and I would immediately feel sympathy," Warwick says.
"I could not bring myself to either," Alice says, "Not when I know he'd sob all night after such a discipline. Once I told him I thought he wasn't trying his best and he collapsed in prayer."
"This is getting ridiculous. I have no problem smacking him or telling him to go do his lessons, where is he?" I ask, standing up.
"Oh, you can't," Humphrey says.
"Excuse me?" I ask, venomously.
"Neither can I," Humphrey holds up his hands, "None of us can it must be one of them."
"I gave birth to that child. I carried him in my body. I have the god given right to smack his face and tell him to act right," I say, folding my arms.
"Based off the terms of his father's will, only Lady Butler and the good Earl, as his main tutors, are granted the right to bestow corporal discipline, as they alone deem necessary, in order to prevent any abuse or untoward aggression towards the young king," Cardinal Beaufort speaks up.
"That's true," Jack nods, "It's so that nobody in court, like say us, got it into our heads to be cruel to him, his tutors are impartial except to ensuring he grows up good and sound."
"His father wrote this into his articles of care before he even grew ill, before the boy was born, it was a part of the documents he sent back to me," Cardinal Beaufort says, "You were planning to return to France." He didn't like me leaving I don't think. I don't much care. But I admittedly didn't read any of that. I'd just given birth I wasn't interested in the child's father's endless paperwork.
"All right," I nod, that does make sense. Of course just any tutor couldn't spank him or just any nanny he's the king.  Growing up my mother only allowed certain minders to discipline myself and my brothers. "I understand that, I don't—he's in an usual position being king and an actual child. However, I don't think the spirit of the exercise was that only the two of them could lay hands on the child. It's a given that my husband the king and I were the boy's parents and would potentially enforce rules."
Edmund shrugs a little. Jack takes Cardinal Beaufort's wine. Humphrey puts a hand over his face.
"That's obvious, my husband didn't put himself on the list because he and I are both understood, as his parents," I say.
Silence. Humphrey stares at the ceiling rubbing his temples. Edmund frowns. Jack finishes the wine. Cardinal Beaufort closes his eyes. Warwick and Alice both fidget.
"Oh my god. He did put himself on the list? And not me?" I ask. This is not even surprising. This is so representative of my two year marriage. It's the most in character thing the man's ever done and he didn't invite me to his death bed. I didn't want to be there, but it looked odd.
"There you figured it out, no one has to say it. Yes, that's what he did," Cardinal Beaufort says, "I believe the thought process was that he'd have more to do with the child's raising as a future monarch."
"This was before I gave birth we didn't know it was a boy," I say.
"Any female descendants of my late nephew are equally endowed to inherit, by an act passed, before he even became king," Cardinal Beaufort says.
"What?" Is that why he never cared that much about a boy? Is that almost kind to a girl he'd have valued just as much? Why am I just finding out about this almost redeemable thing about my husband now?
"It's true, it was partially to hedge that Thomas couldn't inherit. Because Thomas was dumb," Humphrey says.
"All right—so you're all saying I can't legally go spank that kid?" I ask.
"Oh, I'm absolutely not going to stop you, I think he needs a smack upside the head but I can't do it so many people would lay charges on me," Humphrey says.
"Wait, we agree on this?" I ask. We've never agreed on anything.
"It's strange to me as well, we'll get through it separately," he says, "This might be what companionable association feels like I'm unsure."
"I'm sorry to inject a note of logic into this discussion which is going so beautifully with none, however, could we circle back to the initial problem?" Cardinal Beaufort asks, raising a hand idly, "The boy refused to do his lessons, stamped his foot, was quite obstinate. He comes by that naturally I'm sure. Has anyone asked the boy why he refused?"
"He's seven, he doesn't want to do his work," I say.
"That's just the thing. He didn't answer. He shook his head no and ignored me when I questioned him," Alice says.
"Which isn't like him. But he's spent the whole day just sitting in his room reading one of his lesson books, refusing to come if we order him out, he shakes his head no," Warwick says.
"Take him by the shirt and haul him outside?" Jack offers.
"He doesn't like to be touched," Alice says, as though this is normal, "He's quite insistent."
"I think he's being spoiled and he's used to getting his own way from both of you," I say.
"That's what we're discussing, discipline, which I don't see the need for, yet," Warwick says.
"I'm going to go ask him why he didn't want to do his lesson," Cardinal Beaufort says, standing.
"You are not," Humphrey says.
"I am actually. I'm going to go ask the boy, I'll be back in a moment," the Cardinal says, giving Jack his wine cup for safe keeping.
"He's refusing to talk to anyone," Warwick says.
"Oh he'll talk to me," Cardinal Beaufort says, crossing to the door.
"It's treason to deceive or coerce the king, blanket statement," Humphrey mutters the last bit.
"I'm well aware, and I am deeply offended by any accusations that I would use trickery to coerce the king into any action he did not wish to take," Cardinal Beaufort says, leaving swiftly.
"Hands up how many of you knew that I'm not allowed legally to spank my own kid?" I ask.
Jack and Humphrey raise their hands, as do Alice and Warwick.
"To be clear I still think you should do it and I'm not going to stop you," Humphrey says.
"I will stop you, he's not a bad boy," Warwick says, flatly.
"The boy's a Lancaster, I won't allow any accusations to the good lad's character implying he's not," Edmund quips.
"He's just coming into his own," Jack says, "My boys get in trouble all the time."
"I grew up with —us. We were forever in trouble, I'm sure my governess boxed my mouth every other day," Humphrey says.
We all stare at him.
"Nobody say it," he breaths.
He's right though. They are all horrible. Him, all his brothers, they're each a different breed of terrible but no less filled with malice. Of course my husband was the worst, not a shred of kindness in him, bent on nothing but war. Humphrey is pure spite. Thomas was apparently a brute. And John is a cunning manipulator. They're awful men, the sort that can take crowns and hold them. And I'm well aware of what I bred with. My son is not my own, he's a king, he's their next Lancaster king and so the viper might as well be raised by the vipers. He'd not know a home anywhere else.