Court had finished. I like court; it is not as hard as I thought. For most of it, I just had to think to solve the problem, and when there was something I did not understand, there were the men there to explain. Richar’ had been bored. Richar’ was always bored, when there were too many people around for him to touch himself, and he had to attend so he could not go away and find a sin to do. At first, when he was little and realised it was good, I hear that Richar’ touched himself even when there were people. But Elinor; she stopped him, because it was embarrassing. And he did not like it, because she hardly ever stops him from doing anything. You know there are dogs sometimes, who just do things and do not get embarrassed, like piss in the hallway? Richar’ is like that dog.

And Richar’ is also like a dog in that, you can always get him to do the things you want. It is funny, because he thinks that people cannot. But he is the silly, and the impulsive, so people can.

I told my attendants that they could go before I went up to my father. Then I went through the big archway at the end of the hall and found the spiral-stairs that, when I was little, I used to sit and bump on my bottom on all the way down. But I am a king, so I do not do that now. I stepped up, feeling a little sad that there were many things I could not do now that I was king.

“Where are you going?” Richar’ had followed me. He has a round face. It is handsome, but it looks silly when it is doing something like poking out from a doorway.

“I am not going anywhere, Richar’,” I clasped my hands behind my back, and looked at him with the Capet eyes. Richar’ likes the Capet eyes. Most people do, because they are the attractive and the charming. All my family have the Capet eyes; they are a pretty shape and reddish-brown.

He smiled. Richar’ sometimes looks like the Devil when he smiles. I have seen the Devil smile in pictures. And always he looks like he wants to do the fuck. Which might be because he always does, but I am not sure. It seems right, for Richar’.

“Good,” he said. “You have time for me, then? Didn’t you say you wanted to play with me?”

He always thinks he is the subtle.

“Oui Richar’, that is what I say,” I said, swaying a little bit at the waist, which is what he likes. He likes it when I act like a little boy who does not know anything (but who secretly thinks that he is the handsome). I think that is what Richar’ likes more than anything else, even doing the fighting.

“Good,” he said again. He was looking at his hand, but his eyes kept glancing up, and his mouth kept doing the smiling twitch. “Well, then - ”

“I know, Richar’; you want me to come to a chamber with you?” I said. “I am sorry, but I want to visit my father first? You can come and see him with me, if you like?”

His smile went away; he stepped out and did the pout like a child. He looks like a child sometimes, though he is twenty-one. “I’ve seen your father, Philippe. He’s pasty and yellow.”

My body stiffened, like a cat that was frightened, though I was not frightened. “Richar’, that is not the nice. You will not say that about my father. ‘E is a good king.”

“I didn’t say anything about him being a bad king,” Richar’ said, coming closer. “Though he is; mother said so. But you know, I hear he’s worse in bed, so surely that can’t be - ”

“Richar’, I am going away now. I will not listen,” I climbed the staircase.

“Why would you want to hear that your father’s good in bed?” Richard bellowed, and his laughing made an echo. I wanted to say something, but Richar’, he does not listen to anything. He pretends to sometimes, but then he will do just what he wants. “Philippe! Philippe!”

I smiled. He was not happy now that I was out of sight. I heard him coming up the stairs; he was very loud and clumsy. “Richar’?” I said, stopping.

The footsteps; they stopped too. I listened, then climbed some more. I heard the footsteps start again, very quietly. “Richar’, you are the clumsy. I can ‘ear you. And I can see your shadow, on the wall?” I laughed, pointing to it.

There was a throat-noise that he made, then he started running up the stairs again. He does not have the patience to be sneaky, though he thinks he does. I ran too, because I did not want him to catch me. He could not hurt me, or have me before I wanted, but I wanted to see father before I played with Richar’. He caught up and clawed at me. “Richar’, no, you will make us fall!”

“I won’t,” he did the reaching. I kicked back at his hand, but tripped on my robe with my other foot. It was lucky, because I fell forward instead of backward. Richar’ pounced, like a lion. He is not a real lion as he thinks he is, but he is like a lion. His breath was rough and warm. I liked it, and could not help cuddling him when he lifted me and carried me up the stairs. I had cuddled ‘Onry earlier like this. I like the Angevins, though I do not say this to Father, as he does not. And I know that they are the sinful.

“Now you will take me to Father; ‘e is in that door there,” I said, pointing, though I was a little nervous. Richar’ is tame, and I know how to make him do things, but sometimes because he is the impulsive I cannot predict what he will do. For instance, sometimes he may do a thing that would seem too stupid to do, so you did not predict it. It is like, in the war, when he will make a military move that is rash, but succeeds because he is good at the battle. And he wins because of it.

And I was frightened for this reason because he smiled. It is scary sometimes when Richar’ smile, because the things that Richar’ likes are usually things that other people do not.

“Oh, he’s not going to die before we get there,” said Richar’, looking around for somewhere to take me. I struggled.

“Put me down, Richar’.”

“Philippe, don’t struggle so. Come, you’re upsetting me. Look,” his face did the drooping. “You see? Sad lion.” It did make me smile. I always smile at things that are silly, and Richard is always doing silly things that are the amusing. I let him put me down near the wall, but before I could stand he leaned down into me. He went limp all over and fell down on my stomach.

“Richar’!” I groaned. “You are the ‘eavy,” I tried to shift him, but it was like having a horse fall on you in the battle. His eyes were closed. “You are crushing my legs.”

He instantly woke and moved, when I said that.

“I’m sorry, Philippe; I’ll help it,” he did the nuzzle to my thigh, near my waist.

“Non! Richar’,” I pulled at his hair. His hair is dark red and pretty, and there is lots of it. My hands almost disappeared in the red. “Richar’, I want to see my father. You say bad things about him, so I will not see you until afterward.”

“What will I do until then?” he said, holding on to me whenever I tried to move. He was a lot stronger than me; he could hold me down almost with just his head. “Philippe. What will I do? Surely you don’t expect me to just wait in the corridor.”

“You can do what you like, Richar’,” I tried to do the cold king voice. I am not good at being cold; and some people say I cannot be. He put his mouth around my forearm, and held it. “You can go downstairs, and eat. There is lots of food.” Richar’ loves food. He will eat anything.

Richar’ took his mouth off my arm; it had slid about and there was lots of saliva. It looked dirty. Dirty is a bad thing; dirty makes the illness. I rubbed my sleeve.

“No,” he said, and when I got up he lay heavy on the ground, slumping. “I hate you.”

“You do not ‘ate me,” I said firmly, looking at the sleeve, which was blue with gold fleur-de-lis. “Richar’, you made the fleur-de-lis damp.”

“Good,” he said spitefully, as though making the fleur-de-lis damp was a serious blow to France and the Capets. I laughed.

“Richar’, you do not ‘ate me,” I knew he did not, but I did not want him to be angry. I did not mind if Richar’ was angry, but it was good to be safe, and not leave him thinking about his angry. When Richar’ thought about the angry, he would do bad things. “You do not ‘ate me?”

I knelt beside him. He was on his side, and his arms were straight out in front of him. His head was big, and his eyelids were half-closed. “Richar’?”

His pupils slid to look at my face, which was peering at him. His blank expression did not change. “Richar’, you are being the childish,” I said. He turned over.

I sighed. Sometimes, I had to do things I had wanted to save until later, which was bad. Richar’ liking me was an advantage I did not want to lessen; it was better to remain – the aloof? But he needed something to make him stay. I sat down on the ground, with my legs crossed, raised his lionface in both hands, shuffled under him and put it down again on my lap. His head was heavy.

I leaned down, letting my mouth open next to his ear. If Richar’ was really a lion, it would have twitched. But since he was a man, the ear could not.

“Richar’,” I breathed, running a finger down his nose. “Richar’, you will stay?”

He squirmed, turning a little so I could not see his face. I knew that he was doing the smiling. When I have to do something like this, I always pretend that he likes the breath in his ear because it is warming. I know that this is not true. I have had breath in my ear before, and it makes the tingly. But I am good Christian, so it is a bad thing to do for a man. It is whorish.

“No,” he mumbled, into my ankle.

“You will not?” I gripped his hair, and turned him, so I could see his face again. His eyes were still lazy, lips parted in the strange expression. It was perhaps because he was feeling the tingly; I saw his hips moving a little. “Richar’? Bad lion.”

“Bad lion?” he smiled again, still lazy-looking, so that it seemed offhand. But he liked it, I knew.

“Oui,” I said simply, running my fingers through his hair, pulling it back. His face looked strange without his hair over it, white with blue eyes, and no red. “Bad lion.”

I was good with the fingers. I stopped rubbing his nose, and trailed my little finger and forefinger down his jaw, which was very round and padded with the chubby, and down the front of his neck. His throat was moving, a little, and his eyes were looking at me with the glazed look. I leaned back and uncrossed my legs, so that he could lie between them on the robe.

“I’m sorry,” he gave the lazy apologetic look. It was odd looking; his mouth was still slightly open and I could see his teeth. “Forgive me.”

“Oui,” I said, “I forgive you.”

“Kiss me? The kiss of peace?” Richar’ said, tilting his chin up a little.

“Oui,” I said again, smiling; I leaned down, then stopped. “Richar’, I cannot lean that far.”

“Then I’ll move up,” he grinned properly, and suddenly was not lazy; he pushed with his feet so his head nudged between my legs.

“Richar’!” I laughed; it was not the arousing. It was silly. “Richar’, it is even harder now for me to reach.”

Eagerly he squirmed up backward, over my stomach and chest, half-turning. When he was close enough, I kissed his forehead gently. “That is kiss of peace, Richar’; you see?”

“If that’s the kiss of peace, I want the kiss of war,” Richar’ threw up his arms, but I struggle away like a silverfish. I cannot say ‘a blue fleur-de-lis fish’, but that is more accurate. I stepped on soft things as I got away. “I am sorry, Richar’, I tread on you,” I said. “I am going to see Father now? Goodbye.”

“Philippe,” Richar’ got up slower than me, because he is the large and lazy. And because he did not want to look like he had let me escape. “Can I come and see him, too? I love old Louis.”

“Non, Richar’,” I said, turning to look. With one hand I lifted my crown, and with the other I settled the hair underneath.

“You mean I can’t, or I don’t love him?”

“Non, Richar’, I say non for both,” I said. “You do not do the love.”

“That’s a lie,” he said, doing the pouting and making sure he took a long time to put the hem of his tunic down over his thigh place. I pretended not to look there. I could make him a reaction, like a coy childish reaction to it, later when it was the ‘ard and I would need to do it. I did not say any more, because he would just make Lionfaces at me and try to put his hand inside my robe. I went inside to see my father.