The Garrison

He and Thomas had travelled together many times in the past, they were brother’s in arms. As they were kin, James would grant him any favour he requested. Should Thomas embark upon an affair - as he had known him to in the past - with a visiting Princess, James would steal her away from the nobility for his friend. Perhaps it was not the most politically sound way to operate but James - like everything in his life - was ruled by his heart. They had forged a bond that men only could, when they had fought against a shared enemy together. To dance that close to death with a friend, could only create a friendship as strong as blood. He considered Thomas family and so happily obliged him.

“There is nothing to forgive,” James replied with a smile, “The archives are open to you as of this moment. I’ll have them opened when I return to the palace and we shall start there. And I promise, Thomas, we shall find your father…find where you come from - that is my pledge to you."

Thomas took a deep breath, exhaling deeply as he looked around. Without even noticing the weather had changed plunging them into the early offset of Autumn. This search would have to be done quickly before the roads and lands became hard to ride on. It did come to his mind that what if he knew found his father. To never discover a part of himself that felt lost, but had yet to belong to him. Perhaps this was the reason that Thomas had yet to settle down himself. How could he be a father when he had never experienced a fatherly bond. Having children had never crossed into his mind until James started to settle down. When you see a friend as close as James was to him. It was only natural to what a piece of what he had. I shall travel to the palace in the morning my friend who knows what we may find. Let us hope our journey is quick so you can return back to your marital bed.

James chuckled, “No work could keep me from my passions,” he said with a wink and finished his ale, tasting the final dregs - fulsome and rich in taste. At once warming him and quenching his thirst. It had been a while since he had drank the cheap ale served at the garrison, and it was a welcomed change from the perfumed wines and floral tastes he had been served since Mary arrived. Everything in the court had softened with her presence. Flowers were in every room, candles blazed day and night - constant stars burning, the furnishings and upholstery cleaned and lightened - restitched with gold and pale thread, silk curtains billowed about the palace. The women dressed in French fashions, pearl necklaces and velvet fabrics, they swam through the horde of boorish men and weakened them at the knees with their subtle glances. For once, the palace was inviting to James - most of all, because of Mary.

He stood with purpose and stretched his muscular arms above his head, rolling his head around with a sigh. He felt as if he had been sitting for a long time, hunched over as if he were in a council meeting that had lasted all day. Yet, he had no headache nor had his voice grown deeper with shouting and arguments. He was content. His belly was full, his eyes bright and spirits cheered by the ale and speaking with Thomas. There was a certain bond men forged when they had fought together and James thought Thomas greater than a brother. He made over to him and patted his shoulder with filial affection, "I’ll leave now, my friend, and have all the preparations made for when you arrive.”

He took a pace back and shoved on his leather coat, collected his hat from a nearby bench. As he placed it upon his head he added with a playful smirk, “You might want to put your best shirt on. The court is full of French damsels,” and with that he grinned again, nodded his head and left the garrison.