Phillip stood at the end of the bed watching the sleeping child. His color seemed better, his breathing deeper. How he hated to wake him from the rest the doctor urged. But he wanted daylight streaming through the window to be the light for Jacques’ day rather than the gloomy firelight. Waking him from the peaceful sleep seemed a crime, but Phillip knew he must carry on with his decision. The servants would enter the room any minute, changing his young son’s life forever. Hopefully, for the better.
Phillip stirred the fire and returned to the bed. Going down to his knees, Phillip stared at the boy’s face. So like Jacqueline, he thought. For a moment, the familiar weakness closed his eyes as he prayed with no words. These silent prayers were all he could manage. His requests of God were too difficult to hear or think the words.
He opened his eyes and touched the boy’s hand. “Jacques,” he said, “It is time to wake. I have things to tell you.” Phillip watched his son’s eyes flutter open and then close again, his eyelashes snuggling against his cheek. Phillip smiled and whispered, “Were you having a pleasant dream?”
“I was riding Monty. And it was cold outside. When can I ride, Father?”
Regretfully, Phillip touched his hand again. “For now, I want you to wake so that we can prepare for what will happen today. In a few moments, servants will enter to make some changes to this room. Once they are gone, I will explain all to you.”
He scooped up two pillows. Gently lifting Jacques, Phillip placed the two pillows behind his son to help him sit. Phillip noticed the boy’s eyes were wide open now, watching his father carefully. “Are you frightened?” he asked.
As the boy shook his head slowly, Phillip put his finger to his lips. They listened to the noises coming down the hall. Phillip crossed to the window and opened the curtains, filling half the room with grey light. Phillip watched as Jacques squinted and rubbed his eyes. He had kept his son in this dark cave for too long.
The door banged open. Several men entered with small tables, a large desk, a chair, a round table to seat up to ten as well as the chairs to accompany it. Several men lifted the bed and moved it next to the fire and across from a smaller window. Finally, two men entered struggling to carry the throne. They bowed to the king and left.
Phillip watched his son survey his new bedroom. The giant nursery had been transformed into his court and meeting room. He noticed no fear or shock on the boy’s face, just curiosity. Two maids entered with food and drink for father and son. Phillip asked, “Would you like some food?”
Jack turned up his nose and laid against the pillow. He closed his eyes before saying, “No, Father.”
Phillip picked up a steaming bowl of gruel and a spoon from the table. “You shall have some anyway. My order,” he said before sitting on the bed next to Jack. Phillip watched the pale face and closed eyes. The gruel did not smell appetizing, but he thought it would be more filling than the bone broth the doctor had ordered. But he had to get the boy to eat somehow.
“The doctor says you are dying,” Phillip said quietly.
Jack opened his eyes to stare at his father. Phillip again saw the curiosity, but this time there was fear, too. “But I disagree,” he said.
“I’m afraid of death,” Jack whispered.
“So am I.”
It hurt Phillip to watch a tear break through his son’s eye and roll down his cheek. He lifted a corner of the bedclothes to dry the little tears.
“Can I get better?”
“I am not sure. But I think we should try to beat Death at his game.”
“With a trick?
“Oh no. We must play by the rules.”
“What are they?”
“The first rule is that kings and leaders must always do what is best for everyone. It’s called duty.” Phillip picked up the bowl, gathered a small spoon of the gruel, and fed it to his son. Jacques grimaced.
“I don’t like this game.” He fed him another small bite, followed by a grimace and a shudder. Phillip took a small mug off the table and handed it to the boy to drink.
“Ah, but it should be followed carefully by rule number two. Never show Death that you are afraid.”
“But how do you do that?” Jack sipped from the cup and allowed another bite. Phillip smiled. He knew that the spiced milk would wash the gruel down a little easier.
“By living. The stronger you live, the weaker Death becomes.”
The boy closed his eyes and lay flat against the pillow. “I’m too tired to play this game.”
“Open your eyes, boy.” Phillip waited for the six-year-old to comply. He had not been aware that children could be so strong-willed. Jack’s eyes finally opened.
“You must play the game or you have broken the first rule.” Determined, Phillip scooped up a larger bite of food. “Finish this bowl of food. That will be your opening move against Death.”
Phillip continued to feed Jacques, but curiosity finally got the better of the child. “Why are these things here? In my room?” he asked.
“Because it is easier for me to follow rule one if I can stay with you.”
Jack’s eyes fixed on the throne, and Phillip waited for the question he felt was coming. “Will people come here? While I am in bed?”
This had not been the expected question, but Phillip smiled as he put aside the almost empty bowl. “Yes,” he answered, “People will come. There are things you will learn from the people.”
“What things?”
Phillip sighed. Taking the mug, he responds, “You will see soon enough. For now, rest.”
“But I’m not tired.”
He wondered for a moment if he had forgotten his purpose. Urging the boy to eat and sleep seemed very nurse-like, which had not been his intention. He grabbed the chunk of bread from his own breakfast and ate a few bites. The sun peeked through the window, and Phillip watched it light the meadow. He stuffed a piece of cheese in his mouth and handed the rest of the bread to Jacques. “Eat this before I return,” he commanded. He crossed the room to the door and stuck his head out to talk to a servant. When he turned, Jacques was picking apart the bread into small bites.
George will love this story.
Phillip looked through the wardrobe to find leggings, a woolen tunic, a fur-lined hat, and a pair of boots. He pulled Jacques to the corner of the bed and hurriedly dressed him.
“What happened?” Jack asked with a mouth full of bread.
He stopped struggling with the boots to answer, “I remembered rule two.” Jacques looked a sight, and Phillip remembered that he had never dressed his son before.
“My boots are too small.”
Well. Phillip grabbed the boots and set them on the table. “I shall carry you.” He snatched a quilt from the bed, hoisted the bulky bootless child up to his hip, and carried him through the bedroom and out the door. Servants bowed and curtsied, when they weren’t shocked or concerned, causing Phillip to laugh out loud at their faces. It was the first time he had laughed in six years. He felt a little mad.
Once they made it to the front door, Jack let out a small cry, “Monty!” Phillip handed Jacques to Albert and then mounted the horse. Albert returned the child to his father and adjusted the quilt around the boy. Phillip kicked the horse into a slow walk and maneuvered him towards the meadow.
If the sun had remained behind the clouds, the ride would have been too cool for its young passenger. Phillip kept the horse’s speed at a crawl so that the cooler wind from the speed would not chill his son. They rode in silence for a moment. Phillip allowed himself one look and found the boy’s eyes closed, head tilted towards the sky, and the most charming smile on his face. The nurses and servants had declared that Jacques was his mother’s child in looks and temper. In this moment, Phillip saw Jacqueline’s face as they had ridden together in their early days. He felt a pang and lost himself in her memory.
“Father, do kings always have to tell the truth?” interrupted Phillip’s moment with his lost love.
“Honesty is an admirable policy, boy. If anything, it saves time.”
Jack hesitated for a moment before “Did you curse me as a baby?”
“Why do you ask this question?”
“The servants discuss it when they think I am sleeping.”
“So you pretend to sleep in order to hear adults talk?”
Jack nodded solemnly. Irritated at a multitude of people, including himself, Phillip remarks, “Do you understand that listening to conversations that are not meant for your ears is form of dishonesty?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Very well, I will tell you this story, but you must promise that you will never listen to conversations that should not include you.”
“I promise.”
The horse shaking his head and neighing, plus the hooves plodding the ground provided a necessary distraction. He knew he had to tell the truth, and he had to tell it now. He needed the boy to trust him and hoped that the story might plant a seed of trust between father and son. He knew it was a risk.
“Tis true. I did curse you as a baby.”
“But why, sir?”
Phillip sighed, and spoke, “For you to have life, your mother had to forfeit her own. She loved you a great deal, and I loved her a great deal. So I cursed you and abandoned you to the nurses.”
Jack turned his face to look at his father. “You broke the first rule.”
He looked into the boy’s eyes, proud. “Indeed.”
Jack asked, “What was the curse?”
“That you would live a life of pain and loneliness.”
Jack grinned and settled into his blanket. “It didn’t work.”
Phillip gathers his son close to him. “Are you tired? Hungry?”
“No and not for that awful gruel.”
Phillip leans forward onto Jack’s shoulders. He whispered in his ear, “Let’s see if we can work up a proper appetite, boy.” He kicks Monty into a slow trot and steered his horse in circles around the meadow.
Laughing, the boy asked, “Sir, would you please call me Jack? It’s a better name for a boy.”
Phillip laughed out loud, urging Monty into a fair gallop for Jack.
Notes:
Some time has passed since Jack initially collapsed, about a year. Time will continue to move rapidly as we move through more of Phillip’s story.
I’m seven (very) rough draft chapters into this tale. Any feedback is most definitely appreciated.
Thanks to all who are following along! Please feel free to share the chapters.
You made me want to read more--so this chapter is a success! I left you a private message. Ant BTW, I LOVE the gruel button!!