I only own Amorette.

I see the boys of summer

Dylan Thomas, 1914 - 1953

…I see that from these boys shall men of nothing

Stature by seedy shifting,

Or lame the air with leaping from its heats;

There from their hearts the dogdayed pulse

Of love and light bursts in their throats.

O see the pulse of summer in the ice….

…But seasons must be challenged or they totter

Into a chiming quarter

Where, punctual as death, we ring the stars;

There, in his night, the black-tongued bells

The sleepy man of winter pulls,

Nor blows back moon-and-midnight as she blows…

…I see you boys of summer in your ruin.

Man in his maggot's barren.

And boys are full and foreign to the pouch.

I am the man your father was.

We are the sons of flint and pitch.

O see the poles are kissing as they cross.

"Winter will never come for the likes of us. Should we die in battle, they will surely sing of us, and it's always summer in the songs. In the songs all knights are gallant, all maids are beautiful, and the sun is always shining." — Brienne, A Clash of Kings

The knot in Amorette's stomach grew tighter and tighter the closer they got to her home in Provins. She and Tilda arrived just as the sun was setting on the horizon. There were a few minutes more of a strange sort of muted daylight with the pale half-moon barely visible against the violet coloured, cloudless sky before darkness enveloped them. The night was strangely comforting to Amorette. With the darkness came the comfort and knowledge that this meeting of English nobles had yet to take place and was in fact days away. Amorette felt now more than ever that she may have made a mistake in agreeing to meet with the plotters but there was nothing that could be done to prevent it now.

During their journey, it had crossed Amorette's mind that she should feel within her some sort of guilt for betraying her English heritage. Her father was English after all, with lineage that he could trace back through some of England and Scotland's most noble families. Amorette had no care for her father, and hadn't for many years but she did have English cousins who she felt some sort of obligation to. It was not a strong familial bond, but it was something at least. Amorette did not feel shaken at all by the fact that she was siding with France though. England in the form of her father had given her nothing but pain and misery. Whilst her cousins and English friends had not themselves done Amorette wrong they had not exerted their power to help her when she had needed it most. Her father was still controlling aspects of her life even now, whether she admitted it or not. Lord Barclay was still able to frighten her even when he resided across the channel. Granted, Buckingham had driven Amorette's father away from her many times in the last lot of years but when she was a young girl her friend had done little to help her. No one had dared to stand up against her father eleven years ago when Amorette's mother was ill and she was at the complete mercy of her father. Even Buckingham had steered clear of any direct conflict with Lord Barclay.

For that, Amorette would always be cautious of one of her closest friends. She knew in her heart of hearts that Buckingham hadn't really had any choice back then. His father held the title of Dukedom and left his son to frolic through English and French homes whilst he counted his coin. They had been close though, Amorette knew that. If Buckingham had only spoken to his father, something might have been done. In effect Amorette almost believed that she had held more power than Buckingham in those days. When her mother died, Amorette was suddenly thrust into this new world of prosperity. The title and property afforded to her meant that she was no longer under her father's thumb. Within days of the funeral Amorette had packed up all of her belongings and left her father's Chatau for the secluded one in Provins. Having sole ownership of the home meant that Amorette was responsible for herself entirely. Her father could no longer attempt to force her to marry someone of his choosing or lock her away from prospective suitors entirely. Over the years, his want of a respectable marriage for his daughter had wavered considerably. Often Amorette's father would refuse a perfectly good marriage prospect and back then Amorette would not have understood why, but now she was beginning to see things perfectly.

Lord Barclay probably had a list of six or seven men of the peerage who he believed worthy of his daughter's hand in marriage, and perhaps only three or four of those who could be influenced enough to take charge of Amorette's fortune. Despite all of the trouble that this caused, Amorette was resolutely glad of the few meaningful friendships she had managed to carry with her through the years. It might only be a small circle, but it was more than enough for Amorette. Of course, her lack of appearance in English society would certainly hold her back when she ventured out to meet with the men involved in the Denbigh plot. Buckingham's peers would accept her out of respect for him, but older gentlemen with much more experience would give her a wide birth. It needn't matter too much though. If Amorette went about things the right way, she would only need to meet with them once to get the information she needed. By the time the morning of the meeting arrived Amorette had run over her behaviour and what she would do and say so many times that she felt that there would be little opportunity for her to fail. She had better not, because she didn't intend on attending a second meeting.

Lying in bed in the early morning light with the windows thrown wide open to let the cool morning air in, Amorette kept reminding herself that Buckingham expected her to try to reason with these men and convince them not to go through with their plans. Amorette knew well enough how to do such a thing and in her mind she had drawn a map of just what she should say. She had been a close confidant of the Queen and knew better than any of them just how things worked behind closed doors at the Louvre. Amorette also had an understanding of French law, particularly in similar cases to herself where women had inherited titles and property. On top of all of that, Amorette knew that she was an intelligent woman with her own attributes and reputation to recommend herself without anyone else's help. A year ago she would not have considered such qualities something that she herself could claim but Amorette was strangely at peace with who she was now. She was a young woman who had run her own household for many years and her if a little short experience of married life would only further recommend her. This new confidence was an alien feeling, but something within Amorette wouldn't let her loose it. After Fabien's death, some days Amorette felt that all she had left within her was the confidence she outwardly projected and it had seen her through a lot over the last few months. Now, it was time to put it to real use.

She lay in a nervous state, with so many thoughts interrupting each other that Amorette began to feel the niggling worry that she couldn't do what had been asked of her. Before the sun was even high in the sky she had risen and dressed in a loose fitting silk shirt and some breeches that Tilda had found in the attic the night before. Amorette thought she recalled the shirt as something her mother had liked to wear with her skirts around the house without a corset. The breeches though must have at one time belonged to a young boy for when Amorette pulled them on and tucked in her shirt, her reflection in the mirror startled her. She had not noticed just how much weight she really had lost in the last few months until now. Her fifteen-year-old rather plump self would never have believed that the day would come when even she would think herself too thin. Amorette's stomach was too upset with nerves for her to eat anything that morning, but she resolved to eat a good hearty meal when she returned.

It crossed her mind then, that she did not know how long this meeting would last for. Amorette could only hope that it did not take up most of her evening. She had no want of sitting around a table with such men all night. Pulling thick doublets on over her shirt Amorette immediately felt perspiration begin to build. She and Tilda had seen the sense of adding a few outer layers of clothing to try and bulk up her frame a little so that she would not be recognised by any villagers or people from the local town and Amorette sent up a prayer of thanks that such bulk warranted wearing a corset rather pointless. Already struggling in the heat, she could not have imagined trying to get herself onto a horse and across the countryside if she had conformed to the constraints of women's clothing. With a hat on her head with her hair tucked into it, Amorette allowed Tilda to throw a cloak around her shoulders and the deception was complete. Staring at herself in the mirror, with the brim of her hat pulled low over her face Amorette remarked that even her own father might not recognise her. The only slight give away was where the cloak ended and a pair of worn riding boots revealed just how thin her legs were underneath the bulk. On horseback though, such a thing would go unnoticed. Barely able to move in all of the clothing, Amorette realised that for the first time in months she did not feel cold; perhaps it was the adrenaline already coursing through her veins that had stopped her ever present chill.

When Buckingham finally arrived to escort her on the hour's ride to a country Chateau near La Tour César, he made no comment about Amorette's clothing, but she caught the disapproving look he threw her way as he first caught sight of her.

"…And don't talk about Paris; to any of them!" Buckingham added another instruction to a long list that he wanted Amorette to follow.

"George I'm not about to rush in there and talk about the time I had tea with the Queen am I?" Amorette cried as they catered through a small village. "If I'm honest I don't know what good you think my presence will do for these men, but I certainly know what will not aid circumstances. As far as they will be concerned, I am to have nothing to do with their plots. I am simply there as your guest to offer guidance and to try and convince them to disband!"

Buckingham slowed his horse as the homes around them began to dwindle and once again they were venturing into remote grassland. Eventually his horse came to a standstill and turning in his saddle, he made a grab for Amorette's horse's reins. "Madam I must tell you that when I wrote to you asking for help, I thought I had the measure of things in this matter, but it appears I do not. I think what we are about to walk into is much greater than either of us could ever have imagined. When I wrote you I had a list of names in my head of those I thought involved in all of this, and I thought myself almost chief amongst them. Now though, I think very differently. I have heard whispers of other Englishmen staying in the vicinity who would have no other reason to be in France than this matter. They are all powerful, influential, backwards thinking men. What we have agreed to do together may not be possible amongst this greater group. What I know for certain is that we will meet with those select few who are my friends at La Tour César and together we will discuss the matter further, but I'm not sure that I know exactly what we will be discussing. I don't think I'm as important in all of this as I perhaps thought I was. Authority has been coming from another direction and that makes us powerless. We are going in blind!"

Amorette tugged her reins out of his grip. "George why did you not tell me this before we left my home? Granted, I would not have seen sense in turning tail and hiding away but it would have been good to know. We still do not know how well my presence will go down amongst the men you count as friends. If there are other fractions of this group that we do not know about, then frankly I think we are in way over our heads."

Buckingham sighed heavily. "I know; and I'm sorry. Perhaps we may not even have to meet with the others though. Let's show our faces and see how the land lies. If something seems off, we can make our excuses and leave."

Amorette knew that was out of the question as soon as La Tour César came into view above the dense woodland they travelled through. They had veered off the road a little way to try and cut short their journey and when they eventually did return to it, following the patch of early daylight ahead that was the edge of the woodland Buckingham caught a glimpse of his brother in law ahead of them. William Fielding, the first earl of Denbigh was a shrewd political man in his early forties who Amorette had only had the occasion of meeting once or twice in her life. He greeted them warmly, introducing the man with him has his steward, Harry Astor. Astor was a man that Amorette knew nothing of at all, although on first inspection his clothes and posture led Amorette to believe that he too was a gentleman of the peerage. The men talked quietly and seriously for most of their journey onwards whilst Amorette stayed silent. Once or twice she thought she caught Astor throwing her curious glances but she paid no heed to it.

Amorette's nerves were still frayed, even though she was sure William Fielding had not been surprised to find her traveling with Buckingham. After all, Fielding was his brother in law and knew Buckingham's inner circle well. There was something about his beady black eyes though that Amorette didn't trust and she questioned just how influential he had been within the plot they had concocted. The plot had been named after his title and that may have simply meant that the meetings were held in his home for a time. Nevertheless, Amorette was sure that her nerves would yet receive a far more vigorous shake as the day wore on.

At length they approached the town and Amorette expected that they would continue on along the road towards the tower that overlooked them on the hill, but the men veered onto a side road and she followed. Immediately Amorette knew by the tree lined pathway that a great house was seated at the end of the road and wasn't surprised when a country manor house not dissimilar to her own in Provins came into view. Evidently, they were not the first to arrive. Five horses had been dismounted close to the doorway and from the stable yard beyond the house they could hear the shouts and cajoles of the stable boys taking care of yet more horses.

As soon as Amorette stepped through the doorway though, she cursed herself for thinking that this house was anything like her own. She had never particularly thought of her home as remarkably light and airy but compared with this building it certainly was. The dark stained wood panelling of the hallway made the space seem far smaller than it was and the suits of armour and weaponry mounted on the wall would leave any visitors in no doubt whatsoever that they had entered a place of calculated antagonism. From a set of double doors to their right, the rumble of male conversation permeated and Amorette thought she saw Buckingham blanche a little. He may have known every man in the room beyond, but Buckingham did not know or care for the conversations they were having. Ushered out of her top few layers of clothing, Amorette didn't feel any less suffocated. The air in the room was stifling even with the front door thrown open. There was an oppressive feel to the room that they knew would only worsen when they entered and took their seats in the room beyond.

Suddenly from behind them there was the sound of French conversation as three men descended the staircase. Fielding presented first himself and then everyone else in the vestibule to them. Amorette wasn't able to shake the slight expression of shock from her face in time and one of the man looked at her warily. She had not expected to find Frenchmen involved in this plot in the slightest. That was going to make things all the harder. The men's short conversation over, the French led the way through into the room where the conversation was rife. In an elegant but dark dining room that ran the whole length of the side of the house men sat around a table just as long. Amorette heard her own sharp intake of breath and tried to school her features a little more. Even from her position in the doorway she recognised very quickly some of the men there. Robert Grey and Sir John Stanley were in deep avid conversation at the other end of the room and James Hamilton sat at the head of the table, scratching notes with a quill. There were even more Frenchmen present in this room, and Amorette could easily tell them from the English by the cuts of their coats. It seemed the stubborn English had neglected to try and disguise themselves in any way. There was one striking detail that resonated in Amorette's mind as she glanced about her; of all of the men in the room William Fielding was the only one over thirty-five. These men surrounding her were all young dashing bachelors who had yet to see any real warfare. Is that what this is all about; Amorette wondered.

Taking a seat at the table with Buckingham, she turned to look at each man in turn. Young, bright, lively eyes gazed back at her. Whilst Amorette was willing to bet the whole house held an ambience of trepidation in this room there was such a feeling of fresh energy. Every man was proud to be here with his peers, to place their name down upon paper and commit to something that had scarcely gotten off the ground yet. Instinctively Amorette rolled her eyes. These men were not wise and clever. Instructed to sign their name upon parchment that was passed around they did so willingly without a thought to where it might end up and when the parchment reached Amorette there was a still silence all around the room. Everyone's attention was upon her in that moment and Amorette had no choice but to take the proffered quill from Buckingham and scratch her name there too.

These foolish boys thought that Amorette may not be entirely trustworthy and they were right to think it. She supposed they all secretly mistrusted one another really. If they were all honest with themselves, they were all out for personal gain. This was no scheme to preserve the rights of the English people or to uphold religious sanction. This was child's play for gold. At once Amorette knew that there certainly must be another branch of this group hidden under a rock somewhere, and when she and Buckingham overturned that rock they would find all sorts of trouble lurking there. These boys of summer had settled for very little in their search for glory. In return they would receive nothing at all. In fact, everything that they had to hold dear would be stripped from them in time. Amorette did not feel sorry for them in any way, but she did think it a shame that such young minds had already fallen by the wayside.

Their names all signed, someone rose to pull the drapes across the windows to shut out what little light there was in the room. Shrouded in darkness, tappers lit more candles and books and parchment suddenly made an appearance at the table. This was the beginning of whatever it was they had been tasked with arranging. Amorette listened carefully as William Fielding and Nicholas Davies gave their opening speeches to the room but found nothing of interest there. They talked of unity and the strength of English politics for a long while before inviting Frederick Hobart, who was known as Barty to everyone in the room to speak. He was a stout fellow with ruddy red cheeks and thick red hair that continued to fall back into his face after he had swept it away. Amorette marvelled at how these men thought Barty a good moral driver or speaker. He couldn't have been much older than twenty, with the look of a boy who spent most of his time at feast. This was probably the boy that most of them had laughed at in the school room many years ago.

"Now we come to the important matter of our meeting," said Barty proudly with another sweep of his misbehaving hair. "We wish you all to head out into France over the coming months and compile a list of properties currently owned by the French that may fall into English hands at some point or other. For now, this is not a definitive and final list but something to start from. Realistically, we wish to target only those with direct English inheritors with no French generations in-between. There is also the issue of painstakingly figuring out what each property is worth. Of course in most cases there will be other arrears to consider also. I know that some of you have only arrived in France within the last few days and you must rest for a while. Take the time to look over the information we have gathered already. You are all welcome to make use of the vast libraries here and in the homes of our French friends to acquaint yourselves with the ins and outs of French law but I do feel that one amongst us may be able to save us the trouble of such a matter." Barty nodded in Amorette's direction and she felt every eye in the room upon her in that second. There was nothing else she could do but nod. "Excellent Madam. Now all that remains for the moment is for us all to decide where we shall send each other in our ventures, although I would suggest that anyone who has been in France for some time already and who is ready to leave at the earliest convenience heads further south. That way, we will use our time most wisely. The first plans will be drafted from this very house in exactly two months' time. You have two month's gentlemen, to compile a list and make your return journeys. Then we begin the painstaking task of narrowing down those lists into real targets together. We must choose wisely, for the properties and lands will be inherited by our English peers and will thus be a weapon against the French. The land will be our army so you must remember that these properties must have vast lands and tenants; and all the better if there's a title into the bargain. Fraternising with the French is something I would not advise risking. Our French counterparts in this room should be help enough without you having to compromise some Comte's young daughter. We are not here to fetch ourselves wives after all! We must organise ourselves now into groups. If there is a particular area of France that you are more familiar with, I suggest you make use of that knowledge and pass it on to others here today."

"Let's all get to work now," called William Fielding. "We must have something to present to our peers when we meet the second fraction later today!"

Amorette and Buckingham shared a swift glance with each other. Buckingham was right, this was bigger than they had thought, and even the likes of William Fielding who appeared to be in charge was really under someone else's thumb. The sound of chairs scrapping against the floor drew Amorette back from her thoughts as the men began to move around the room towards others who may have shared common ground on some particular area of France. Not wishing to appear disobliging, Buckingham too stood from his place beside Amorette and moved towards Robert Grey.

His seat on Amorette's right was swiftly taken by Oliver Norton. "Of all the people I expected to see here today Cometess, you are not one of them!" he exclaimed with a dashing smile. "Not that your presence is unwanted of course."

"Speak for yourself," grunted a man from across the table whose name Amorette did not know. "Personally I don't know which fool agreed to let the enemy sup with us!"

"The Cometess is half-English," corrected Oliver Norton but a few other men had cried out protest of Amorette's presence.

Buckingham shot up out of his seat. "I've already spoken for the Cometess! She is my friend and your ally."

"She's part of the French Queen's inner circle!" yelled another man from the corner of the room.

Amorette rolled her eyes in annoyance. She had fully expected some sort of opposition to her presence. "It's true that I was part of the Queen's inner circle some time ago," Amorette called to the room at large. "That is no longer the case. Indeed, my feelings towards the house of Bourbon is greatly changed messieurs! I know none of you will believe a word of it but I do have my reasons for being here. The Queen herself tried to have me killed whilst I was still in her employ!"

At that a few men jeered mockingly and Amorette didn't really know what else to say to them. It was quickly taken out of her hands however. All of the men looked up sharply, staring at a point over Amorette's left shoulder. "What the Cometess says is true gentlemen! As a man of the court I should know!"

Amorette turned apprehensively to find Jerome Weston standing directly behind her. He gave her a small smile of reassurance and gestured for the men to return to their work. "How on earth did you find out about that?" Amorette muttered to him. "That was a closely guarded secret!"

Weston threw her a wink. "I have eyes and ears everywhere Madam." For a few seconds more they held eye contact, with a cold feeling of dread settling in Amorette's stomach. She didn't know how her mind quickly jumped to the thought, but in that second Amorette was sure that Jerome Weston was the creator of those peepholes in the Louvre Palace. When he finally broke eye contact and turned to walk length of the room Amorette let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. The men nearest her had also been watching the exchange avidly.

"Regardless of all of that," cried Oliver Norton in an attempt to take the conversation back to its roots, "Have you lost your minds and forgotten who this Madam's father is? Every one of us in this room knows the cost of betraying a man like Lord Percy Barclay! I'd say that for his own daughter it would be far more severe than it would be for any of us!"

Norton threw Amorette a smile as the men muttered under their breath, but did not voice any more protestations out loud. Amorette turned just in time to catch sight of Weston snatching the list of names from further down the table and folding it to place in his doublet pocket. She needed to get that list! A thought also began stirring in Amorette's mind that perhaps Jerome Weston was far more involved in all of this than any of them knew. Perhaps he had even orchestrated the whole thing. That was a thought for later though, she knew very well and turned her attentions back to Oliver Norton who was speaking with some Frenchmen across the table.

Norton was very aesthetically pleasing, with a jawline that might have been chiselled from marble. Amorette had met him once or twice in her younger years but he had not changed much at all. Whereas Buckingham dripped charm and sultry whispers, Norton needed none of that. Fair hair was gently swept away from his face to reveal those prominent cheekbones and gentle hazel eyes. Amorette knew many of her English cousins wanted to win his hand in marriage and she couldn't blame them. He was incredibly good looking, almost like the marble busts of roman Emperors that her father had littered all around his great houses in England. There was a strange excitable air about Norton, as if he didn't quite know what he was doing but was determined to do it anyway. It was a real shame in his case, for Amorette knew that he was a good man. She suspected he wouldn't be so appealing once he had been stripped of any titles and fortune and perhaps punished even further for his involvement in this plot.

Amorette suddenly remembered the reason Buckingham had asked her to attend this meeting in the first place. Leaning forward, she glanced briefly at some documents as the men opposite them got up from the table and Norton fell silent.

"You know," she whispered carefully, "Buckingham has told me about what all of you are planning. I know you would all expect as much from me but I don't think it is a worthwhile enterprise. Months of planning could all be rendered worthless if one simple mistake is made. There are so many things that could go wrong."

Norton shook his head, a look of a amusement crossing his face. "Of course I woman like you would say that. You are careful and concise. The time for noise and even violence is now Madam. We have been left with no choice."

Amorette didn't really know what he meant by that. "Whatever your end goal may be Monsieur, do not disregard my good opinion. I'm French, with friends in high places. I've been a member of Paris court for a year now and moved within circles that have greatly opened my eyes. You may see all of these loopholes through which to throw Englishmen but the King and his spies will find you out!"

Norton threw her a shrewd look as Jerome Weston took the vacant chair on Amorette's other side. "The thing is," said Weston, "That England is tearing itself apart now. These Puritans want to flush us all out. Cromwell is biting at the King's heels and we need to assert our power. For so long the English monarchy has proclaimed itself King or Queen of France and now we must assert that power. Beginning to take it by stealth is what we envisage doing for the time being, as to openly revolt would start another war that we cannot afford."

Does the English King know of this plot?" Amorette asked.

Weston shook his head. "He proclaims to know nothing, and we have told him as much. As ever though, he is a shrewd man with even shrewder advisors so I'm sure they have their noses to the ground. I'd be astonished if he didn't have some intelligence of our plans or of other plots that may or may not have been concocted."

Harry Astor had been listening from behind them. Stepping forward into the candlelight he smiled Gently at Amorette. "Cometess I'm sure you are aware from your time at Paris court how well a King must know his courtiers. Half of English court is in France right now, so I'd say our King Charles knows a lot more than he is willing to admit to."

"Your plan is mad; you know that don't you?" said Amorette as she looked around at them all incredulously. "What I mean is, I understand completely why you do it, but it can never work! French law will have most if not all of your targets too well protected. French money and property will not fall into English hands so easily. It's going to take a lot more than a few suspicious but seemingly accidental deaths and French manor houses to win all of France!"

"That Madam, is why you are here!" cried Weston. "Your kind of knowledge of French law and of the French King is invaluable. I may be the English Ambassador, but there are certain doors at the Louvre Palace that are permanently closed shut to me! You on the other hand…" He trailed off and lifted his glass of wine to his lips.

Amorette noted vaguely that it seemed very early to be drinking, and she had not thought Weston a man to do so. Then again, she hadn't really known him at all. Amorette fell silent and let the men talk around her. She was quickly realising that these men did not think of their cause as child's play. They were doing it for a reason and she wasn't really going to have much sway over them. Just as the thought entered her head that she should go and Fetch Buckingham and quit the house, Jerome Weston rose from his chair and left the room himself. Amorette's mind flew to the list that he had placed in his pocket.

Jerome Weston would be staying in this house no doubt, with a room filled with letters and documents that would surely incriminate him wholly and terribly. Where else would he hide it after all, when all here were his friends. Amorette needed to get into that room.

I've had a shocking case of writer's block trying to flesh out the next few chapters, so I'm not sure they're my best! I'm quite excited to write a certain moment we have all been waiting for so all of this seems not very exciting compared to it! Once I planned it all out a little though it seemed to take on a life of its own. Yet again what I thought might be one chapter has had to be cut into three.