Of Pride and Power - 2. Chapter 2- “When asking for help, appeal to people’s self-interest”

While my realization and panic couldn’t be hidden, it was a good thing that only this older grandfatherly guy saw it. In context to our discussion, the drop in my emotional barriers was appropriate. I eyed a pitcher of water on a distant table, which Lord Ashley brought before me along with a cup. He poured me a full glass of water, which I drank in earnest as I had not drunk any water in days. After finishing one glass, he poured me a second, which I drank slower. Upon finishing that glass, he dutifully placed everything back from where it came.

He bowed in apology, “I am sorry, my lord, I lost my tongue upon seeing your dreadful state.”

I was aware of the Tudor family’s history from watching basic PBS documentaries, which were imported from British ITV and BBC respectively. If I was fifteen right now, then Edward would be around eleven to twelve years old and Mary would be around thirty-one to thirty-two years old if this reality followed my timelines. In four years, Edward will die and Mary will ascend to the throne after a coup. Then, she will reign for five turbulent years, until she dies, then I will take the throne and reign for forty-five years, until I die, then Elizabeth's cousin James took over. That’s how history was supposed to work, but I don’t know exactly what happened between all these events. The little details and plots could be significantly different, along with how this world operated, like the presence of magic. The odd adaptation of my brain to the English language of this era made me wary of other things that may be possible. Magic exists outside common sense, so I could be facing dragons and orc invasions instead of the fated encounter with the Spanish fleet. There’s also another possibility, if I had been transported here from my world, who else could be here?

Gathering my emotions, I began to probe for more information and this man’s motivations, “Lord Ashley, may I inquire as to the current state of affairs?”

Nodding, the old man’s lips tilted slightly into a half grin, “As expected, you are quite resilient, my lord. Your sister Mary is still privately berating your brother about his expulsion of the Papal envoy, while His Highness, King Edward, is in private meetings with His Excellency Lord Protector Duke Somerset, regarding the shift to new doctrines based on faith alone. I fear that they may soon come to blows without a moderating voice like yours. The kingdom cannot sustain such a tumult with so many enemies near and far. If you can return with me to court, it may be best to restore equilibrium.”

This sly silver fox was more than he seemed at the outset. At first, he feigned outrage about my treatment, then he gave me a way to escape it by following him back to court to play peacemaker for my powerful siblings. I knew from the outset that his outrage was not completely for my benefit; though, I could tell he may care about my well-being for other reasons. As someone who was far removed from the center of power and, at this point, not in the line of succession, no one would care about my well-being unless they needed to use me to further their aims. Being able to detach myself from a situation and observe things like this is useful against people trying to manipulate me.

Edward was the nominal king of England, while real power rested with Duke Somerset, who as I recalled was Edward Seymore, brother to Thomas Seymore. Mary held sway over the Catholic believers in England and through her numerous foreign contacts, vast military resources. I was situated in the middle, being a ward of the powerful Seymore family and a well-known victim, I could quell both sides. It was a role that women traditionally were forced to play in various cultures in service of greater interest.

Of course, I would accept Lord Ashley’s request as there were few options for me. I had no intent on being used as some plaything for Thomas Seymore and I knew how history would eventually reward him and his brother’s machinations.

Still, I wanted to gain more information from Lord Ashley as he was seeking my assistance.

Intelligence was something worth its weight in gold, so I answered, “While I appreciate your trust in me, I fear that my words would have no effect. I wield no forces or fortunes of my own. My knowledge of affairs is scant.”

Lord Ashley scoffed in amusement, “I have taught all three of his majesty’s royal children, I know all your abilities. While your sister Mary possesses the greatest skill in gathering followers and your brother King Edward possesses the greatest skill in organizing thoughts, your skill in language and oration is a match for Cicero. Mastering Latin, English, Cornish, Welsh, and Scottish within your youth demonstrates a skill of language beyond peers.”

I pressed on, “Words have no meaning without strength. Mary and Edward have strength behind their words.”

Considering my words, Lord Ashley weighed his words carefully, “King Edward controls much of the army and royal naval squadrons through the lords. Within the kingdom, his forces are formidable. They can easily break any fortress with cannon fire. Your sister Mary can call upon a smaller force within the kingdom, but her Spanish cousin can bring forth his armies and fleets of galleons. Luckily though the Church’s forces are still busy with their war in the Holy Roman Empire, so their air fleet and iron cannon wagon carriages are not available. They will remain stationed there until the Lutherans are completely suppressed or wiped out.”

At the mention of an air fleet and Iron cannon wagon carriage, I knew I was not alone in this parallel reality. The odds of advanced human technology developing in this world independently were astronomically small. It made sense that someone from my world would have come here earlier. They aimed to gain power through the strongest political, social, and military institution of this era, the Roman Catholic Church, or the Papal State, which was both a temporal and spiritual power.

As candle lamps and hand-stitched clothing appeared to be common in England right now, I can already guess that the Industrial Revolution had not taken hold throughout the world. I had hoped that I could use my limited knowledge of science and technology to slowly improve civilization, like a lot of the stories I enjoy reading about. However, the mention of air and mechanized warfare meant that I was in uncharted territory. I cannot expect outcomes to be the same as they were in my history with the introduction of modern war machines in the mix.

Still, I am lucky, the lack of military intervention in England meant that whoever had brought modern technology to this medieval reality had not fully developed their industrial base. The Industrial Revolution took a century of trial and error, so even if you could make airplanes, tanks, and even modern firearms, it does not mean you can achieve mass production. You need to connect coal, iron, and water sources across vast distances without an established road or rail network. Without mass production, the effect of some modern weapons is limited to a battlefield advantage, while civilian populations can still fight guerilla-style warfare and slow their progress. Eventually, the industrialized side will win, but it can take decades depending on the popular resistance. I learned that from reading manga.

Being in the home nation of the first industrial revolution, I had a small strategic advantage, if I could gain the throne. However, whoever is in charge over in Rome right now would know their history and recognize the divergence in my presence. Butterfly effect and everything else aside, someone like me appearing at this place and time was going to mark me as a kill target if I got too creative. Even if they only have a few planes and tanks, it does not take too much effort to carpet bomb a stationary target, even if it means a lot of innocent folks burned with me. Something told me that whoever was directing a reverse blitzkrieg in what will become modern Germany, was not a saint. However, if I do not get on the damn throne, then I am just as screwed as I would end up dead by the various people trying to take over. Fuck, I wish Jack were here, he would know what to do.

Gaining all the information I could gather from Lord Ashley, I nodded, “I shall endeavor to be of service to the kingdom, Lord Ashley.”

Getting my tacit approval, he handed me a leather-bound book filled with strange words, which took my brain a few minutes of page flipping to process back into English. The writer appeared to be someone called Tacitus. I remembered hearing about him from a documentary, he was a Roman historian. Educated people around this era were reading various classical literature from ancient Greece and Rome, especially members of the aristocracy. As so many knew classical Roman literature, the Roman language Latin became quite popular in common use. Latin was considered the lingua franca for diplomats and traders as it was the mother tongue of most European nations.

I graciously accepted the gift, “Thank you for offering me Tacitus’ Annals.”

He smiled at my recognition and asked me to translate the text, which I did in quick succession. This is a cool magical skill, but sadly it is quite useless for what I am facing right now. If being a ruler of a nation does not work out for me, I guess I could always go into seclusion and work as a book translator.

After ten minutes or so of him asking me to translate and recite Latin, he left my bedroom. As manipulative as Lord Ashley might be, he was at heart someone who loved to educate children. I can appreciate people like that if they do not push their views on others. I think the problem with modern education systems stems from people like Lord Ashley. Most teachers mean well, but in the end, they are unable to separate their knowledge and observations from the critical thinking within individuals applying those facts. Classical education is based on a one-directional data transfer between a teacher and student, where the teacher’s values must be absolute facts for the information to be true, like religion. Reality does not work like that; from physicists observing particles moving in parallel to other particles on the smallest scale to large-scale planetary bodies rotations being affected by the positions of their moons. I hope I can shift Lord Ashley’s way of thinking.

My stomach was rumbling and growling by this point, it was probably several days, since this body ate anything solid. The adrenaline of my situation had worn off, so normal bodily functions were returning like hunger. Sadly, no one was in my room right now and I did not have the energy to walk around what I assumed was likely a mansion-like house.

Despising my weakness, I called out, “Can someone assist me?”

A teenage boy came into the room, who made my heart race, and I called out, “Jack?”

He approached me and bowed deeply, “No my lord, my name is not Jack. As far as I recall, you do not have anyone by that given name in this residence. “

Looking at him closely, he wasn’t Jack, but the resemblance was too close to be serendipity.

At that moment, I realized that I may never see my boyfriend again. Beyond all the messed-up stuff that had happened, I had forgotten that I no longer had my partner. People may think that when you love someone, you will notice that they’re gone. However, I knew from experience that when you love someone sometimes you can’t.

I remember this old woman, who was working at a Publix supermarket. She was always talking and laughing as she worked the cash register. Based on her words, she was talking to her husband, who I later learned had died twenty years ago. She wasn’t insane or senile, though. Several asshole college guys learned the hard way when she hit them over the head with a baseball bat for trying to shoplift some beer. When I was in one of my inquisitive moods, Jack and I went up to her to ask why she continued talking to her dead husband.

She said, “It was just how things have always been between us and he would have wanted to keep me company.”

Some may say that her way of dealing with grief was supremely tragic, but I saw it as someone making such an impact on her life that she never felt lonely at their departure. That is what a life partner is and I had hoped I could have shared that kind of full life with Jack. Instead, we were robbed of those decades.

Holding back my emotional anguish, I glared at the boy who resembled Jack, “Who are you?”

He bowed deeper, kneeling now on the floor, “My name...my name is Robert...Robert Dudley.”

With hunger and anger, I commanded him, “Get me some food, preferably something fried and sweet.”

His head turned up slightly, “I can ask one of the servants to…”

With excessive force, I tossed a pillow at this hapless teenage boy, “I asked you to get it, are you deaf or dull?”

He rushed out of my room and I was left in complete silence. In the intervening time, I calmed down and realized what I had done out of being hungry and angry. Being hungry can make people unreasonable. Of course, the fact that the boy looked a lot like my boyfriend added to my abrupt needs. Jack understood my needs and obeyed my commands without question. I was just doing what I used to do with him when I needed something.

As the minutes dragged on without any sign of the boy’s return, tears began to form in my eyes. Jack was gone, the one person who understood me and I could count on for anything wasn’t going to be around to help me anymore. I’ve always told him how much I appreciated what he did for me, while I could only return a fraction of his affection. I had my aunt buy books he liked to read, I cuddled him the way he liked after we had sex, and above all, I gave him the special attention that he deserved for his beautiful mind when most people ignored him for being weird. Now all of that was gone.

Heavy footsteps brought me out of misery, I saw the teenage boy carrying a large tray with food and a porcelain tea set. He was walking very slowly and carefully to not disturb the content of the tray, which I could tell was straining for someone of his size and build. Come to think of it, his body shape and clothing did not match the servants from earlier. He was dressed somewhat like Lord Ashley, making him a noble in terms of rank. Still, I needed to satisfy my hunger first, before questioning myself about this boy’s identity. If this guy had been willing to accept my commands without hesitation, I might have made a new friend.

He placed the tray on the table where the pitcher of water was and brought the plate of food to me in bed. It was a simple meal with scrambled eggs, a fried pastry, and some figs on the side. I noticed there were no utensils on the plate. I ate it all with my hands, not caring about eating etiquette or whatever the English aristocracy believed in. I was too damn hungry to worry about maintaining my cover, especially if there’s only one witness.

After finishing the food, the boy offered me a wet washcloth that I wiped my hands on and took the plate away. He was very attentive and obedient, just like Jack. I can almost imagine for a moment that he was transported to this strange world with me, but I knew this boy’s real name was Robert Dudley.

At the thought of his name, a flash of recognition came. This boy was Elizabeth I’s lover, some say her only true male love. He was completely loyal to her to a fault. Is that why he looks like Jack?

As he was serving both himself and me a cup of tea, I broke my façade and asked him, “Why do you obey me?”

He paused and stared at the teapot, then replied, “We’ve known each other since we were eight. I know your moods and temperaments. Nobility and status mean nothing before you, only through obedience and ability can I gain your favor. I cannot aid you in your desires for power, I cannot protect you from scoundrels my father considers his allies. All I can do is serve you in whatever ways that pleases you.”

We both dropped our masks for the moment, revealing something honest between us. In many ways, he was like Jack, but in others, he could never be my old partner, just as I was not the Eli Tudor, he gave his heart to. As the tea was drunk, we stared at each other in silence, but not with indifference. We were two people who seemed so familiar yet so far apart. Albert Camus was wrong about “accepting the gentle indifference of the world”, there was nothing indifferent about this intricate relationship.