‘Not to play,’ Iain growls, lifting his chin in defiance.
‘Ah, but that is not an option for someone of your birth,’ Arundel says.
Iain narrows his eyes. ‘I can do whatever I want.’
‘Well, if there was any doubt you’re a prince, you just removed it,’ Arundel says, to scattered laughter in the crowd. Harry is close enough to Iain now to see Arundel lean in to Iain’s ear, and hear as he whispers, ‘The King will either summon you or kill you. Be prepared for both.’
‘I’ve been preparing for this since I could walk,’ Iain answers.
‘Indeed,’ Arundel says, catching Harry’s eye as well. ‘If you two need safe haven, Arundel Castle is always open to you.’
Iain nods.
A dozen men-at-arms in the King’s colours force their way through to them. Two minister to the Queen Mother, lifting her onto a litter and carrying her away towards a knot of anxious handmaidens. The rest circle Iain, and open a path through the crowd.
Harry suddenly sees Montagu in the crowd. They lock eyes, and Montagu smiles, before disappearing. Something terrifies Harry about that smile, but then the King is striding towards them up the path flanked by his soldiers, and there are more important matters to be concerned with.
Harry and Arundel kneel before the King. Iain does not.
Two men-at-arms step forwards, the lead one asking Iain if he will take a knee for the King by choice or by force. Iain says nothing, and remains standing. The soldiers lunge forwards, grabbing for Iain.
Edward raises a hand when he sees the man-at-arms about to seize Iain’s shoulder. ‘Stop,’ he commands. ‘You will not put your hands on someone of royal blood.’
Harry hears the gasps of the crowd, unwilling to believe Iain’s identity until the King acknowledged it.
Edward steps up and kisses Iain on both cheeks. ‘Cousin,’ he says.
Iain inclines his head and replies, ‘Cousin.’
Iain quickly doffs his practice jacket and hands it and his borrowed sword back to Harry. ‘Please give my apologies to Sir Hugh,’ he says.
Harry’s loins twist at how damn regal Iain is. Even barefoot in his simple blue shirt, he’s twice the man of any of the nobles gathered there in their damask and parti-coloured scarlets.
‘We have much to discuss,’ the King says, taking Iain’s arm. ‘Let us return to my chambers. Sir Harry may come with us too.’
Iain glances at Harry, emotionless, then turns back to the King and says, ‘No. I’m afraid Sir Harry has business back at his manor, and his impending marriage to plan.’
‘Alas,’ says the King, ‘and congratulations. Let my steward know the details, so we may send a gift.’
Then he steers Iain down the corridor of men-at-arms, and out of Harry’s life.
Ten
July–November 1334: Castle of Sand
‘Told you he was a lord,’ Annie says.
Harry sighs. ‘I know,’ he says. He stares dully out at the foundation of his new, larger hall. Progress is slow; they’ll be in the barn all winter at this rate. Especially as half the workmen are likely to vanish as soon as harvest starts.
At least they are debt-free now. Arundel caught up with Harry on the second day of the tournament, after Harry informed the heraldry clerks he was dropping out of the joust to go home. The Earl sat himself down on Harry’s travelling chest, sighed, and said, ‘How bad is it, lad?’
Harry had almost said it feels like there is a hole in my chest that will never heal, before he realised that Arundel was tossing a bag of gold from hand to hand. Probably not referring to Iain, then.
So Harry sat down on the ground and named a number. ‘That’s for Montagu,’ he explained. ‘Our old debts.’
‘And the new ones?’ Arundel had asked. ‘Alys says you’re rebuilding your manor. Oh, here’s a tip: garderobes. Also, a lady’s chambers. Alys would prefer that. And for the love of all that’s holy, glass windows. You wouldn’t believe the difference.’
Harry had shaken his head and laughed hollowly to himself. ‘We can’t afford that, your lordship.’
‘Please. I’m about to be your father-in-law. Wait, not father. You’re my ward-in-law. Or something like that. In any case, call me Richard. And, lad?’ Arundel said.
Harry raised his head, and Arundel tossed him the bag of gold. ‘You can afford it now,’ the Earl said.
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but the Earl’s frown cut him off. ‘Don’t argue. Alys is used to a certain standard. I’d be derelict in my duty as her protector if I didn’t ensure you can keep her in the manner – or indeed the manor – to which she’s become accustomed.’
Harry reluctantly pocketed the gold. ‘Look out for him, will you?’ he had asked, at the end.
Arundel nodded, and patted his shoulder.
And now it is August and Harry is back in Devon, with everything a man of his position could want, and without the one person he needs. His people try to cheer him up. Annie cooks him his favourite foods; Adam and Jed drag him to see calves and piglets and the goose that Jed has taught to perform tricks; Kit serenades him with some of the most tasteless songs he’s ever had the misfortune to hear. But Harry sleepwalks through his days, attending to his duties, and then goes to his corner of the barn to pretend to sleep at night.
At least the harvest is starting soon, Harry thinks. He can lose himself in physical labour.
Harry and Alys correspond. They set the wedding for Christmastime, at Arundel Castle, after the final tournaments are over and the new hall is at least partially completed. Iain’s approval is no longer an issue. They also agree that while Alys will visit
