The Youngest Prince Of The English Royalty House [EN]: Chapter 6

[Mary de Clare (1)]

England was abuzz with activity, preparing to welcome the arriving guests.

I observed the members of the delegation, scrutinizing each one.

Among them, Andronikos, the Byzantine nobleman, was a complete scoundrel. He was the type you just knew was trouble.

He boasted to the influential figures of England in flamboyant Latin about his ‘close aides,’ clearly trying to impress them.

The young Crown Prince silently trailed his uncle, a shadow in his wake.

Even to my inexperienced eyes, the Crown Prince seemed like little more than a figurehead.

The uncle, on the other hand, was excessively talkative, acting as if he were the main attraction.

Seeing this display, Father leaned in and said,

“I’ll wager you, John, that the uncle is the one ruining Greece.”

“Pardon?” I asked, surprised by his blunt assessment.

After spouting such nonsense, he added with a chuckle, “Just kidding. Do you think I would sell my child like Judge Jephthah? John, the Crown Prince desires a private audience with you.”

[Judge Jephthah is a figure from the Bible, known for his rash vow to sacrifice the first thing that came out of his house to greet him if he won a battle. Upon returning victorious, his own daughter was the first to emerge, and he tragically fulfilled his vow.]

Jephthah is a judge from the Bible, a notorious madman who pledged a human sacrifice to God as a reward for winning the war.

In the end, the first person to come out was his own daughter, and he sacrificed her, making him a terrible scoundrel!

Anyway, enough with the jokes.

So, I was to become the companion of the Greek brat. It was annoying, but I had to obey the order.

I went to the Byzantine delegation’s lodging and addressed the Crown Prince, who was younger than me.

“Your Highness, do you have some time to spare?”

“I always have plenty of time,” he replied with a hint of melancholy.

Fortunately, Crown Prince Alexios accepted my request.

Having had several conversations with him before, I felt comfortable enough to drink beer without hesitation.

However, the Byzantine Greek guy seemed to have a low tolerance for alcohol.

He suddenly started lamenting his fate, his words slurring slightly.

“You may not trust our Byzantine Empire, but please trust me. I will follow my father’s will and drive out those damned Muslims through solidarity with the West.”

“What exactly do you mean by that?” I inquired, curious about his sudden outburst.

“I just said it because I was drunk. More than that…”

More than what?

“I envy Prince John,” he confessed.

“Envy? I’m having a hard time too. My father’s favor is my everything, but there’s a lot to endure for it.”

Seeing the uncle’s behavior, Byzantium seems to be a mess, but my family is also a mess.

What kind of wife takes three sons and starts a rebellion that is almost a civil war just because she is angry?

Considering such a family situation, I am by no means an enviable youngest son.

Until now, I was protected in that dysfunctional family because I was young,

But now that I’m 13, the age of adulthood,

I may be forced to make a choice.

It means I may be checked by my scary brothers.

“Prince John, I am now returning to my country. But I will never give up on Princess Agnes.”

“Hahaha, is that so?” I responded, trying to sound nonchalant.

“I mean it,” he insisted.

Yes, don’t give up. It’s a lost cause anyway.

My marriage to Princess Agnes will not happen anyway.

Even if our family agrees, Louis VII, who already married his eldest daughter Marguerite to my eldest brother (Henry), will not give another princess, Agnes, to me, creating a double marriage alliance.

In the first place, I proposed to Princess Agnes, prepared to be rejected, for the sake of having a reason to meet with the French youngest sons and to make my name known.

Thus, the guests from Byzantium departed.

Father went to the French territory but did not meet a French woman. Rather, I was worried about such a father.

Father, who looked very tired as if he had met five mistresses at the same time, said,

“Damn Greeks. They haven’t even recovered Anatolia. They have so much pride. They still think they are Romans.”

It seems Byzantium has not come to its senses.

“I’m tired too,” I chimed in.

“You, John?”

“The swan has to kick countless times to maintain its elegance,” I quipped.

“Hahaha. Not a goose?” he chuckled.

My father laughed heartily at my words.

“That’s a very funny saying. I have to go back to work now.”

I silently watched my father’s aging, bent back disappear beyond the sunset and said,

“Father, in that sense, please raise my allowance.”

That’s what a legitimate youngest son of England would say.

**

News came from France.

The news that the young Princess Agnes and Crown Prince Alexios would marry.

Now I have to retire from being an engagement plaintiff.

Ha, my job has decreased.

“What will our Prince John do?” someone asked, their voice laced with concern.

I, the person involved, don’t feel anything special.

But it seems that’s not the case in the English court.

Everyone looked at me with pitiful faces.

In particular, my father looked at me with a sad face and said,

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop their marriage.”

“It’s okay,” I reassured him.

Because I really don’t care.

Seeing my indifferent expression, my father patted me on the shoulder and said,

“John, there are many beautiful women in the world, so forget that child now.”

But the problem is that those beautiful women are my father’s lovers.

My father comforted me with a troubled expression and left.

Henry II, who has more women than anyone else,

Comforting John, the prince whose pure love failed.

“Prince John. Sob, sob,” someone wailed.

“Cheer up. Sob, sob,” another echoed.

Unintentionally, I turned Westminster Palace into a sea of tears.

As time passed and I entered my bedroom with a hollow expression,

Peter looked at me intently and said,

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, of course,” I replied, trying to sound convincing.

‘That old man has a lot of desire for fame. He sold his daughter to Greece.’

King Louis VII of France became the father-in-law of the next Byzantine Emperor,

Because Byzantium, which had declined but is regaining its power, has legitimacy.

That is, the shining legitimacy of the ‘Roman Empire’.

Of course, I found France, which was acting pretentious, ridiculous.

It’s obvious that without a center of gravity like Manuel I, that Byzantium will fall again.

Of course, Louis VII and Philip don’t care what happens to Byzantium as long as they mess with England.

Princess Agnes. No, Empress Agnes of Byzantium is unlikely to have a good outcome.

Of course, if I look normal, people will become suspicious.

I reduced meat, milk, and even beer for over a week.

I approached Peter with a gaunt face and said,

“Peter, my childhood is over.”

“Your Highness, that means…”

“Forget Agnes. I think I should start building my foundation.”

“Your Highness, I have been waiting for those words,” Peter replied, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes.

No matter how young the youngest prince is,

Not having a political base means wanting to die.

Naturally, having died once, I didn’t want to become a victim of power.

“I was betrayed by love, but I will never become a clergyman.”

“That’s a matter of course,” Peter agreed.

It is difficult to survive as the youngest in the Middle Ages.

Of course, if the youngest becomes a clergyman,

‘I’ll do some business in the Vatican for my brothers.’

I can just laugh and play the role of a supporter.

But the clergy is not my path.

No matter how much Teacher Thomas tempts me, I absolutely don’t want to read boring scriptures and live an ascetic life.

Then what should I use to build my foundation?

While pondering, a good idea came to mind.

I immediately said to Peter, my aide,

“I wish I had a family-in-law power that would help me.”

Then Peter showed a sharp look and said to me,

“I have already prepared a list of families that would suit Your Highness.”

“You are my Simon Peter. Now, let’s have a glass of milk and think,” I said with a smile.

Peter was very capable.

I drank the milk thickly and looked at the information of the wife candidates.

“How about this young lady in London?”

“Your Highness, that’s an excellent choice. This family is a Norman noble family with connections to Queen Eleanor, and it’s a family that other princes can accept.”

“Good, then is it time for a mom’s chance? I miss you today. My mother!”

“As expected, our prince has outstanding filial piety.”

“Of course, of course.”

In the end, after strict screening by me and Peter.

The family that will become my in-laws has been decided.

**

After finishing the serious discussion with Peter.

I observed her and her brother, who were sightseeing in London.

I immediately ran to my beloved father and said,

“Father. I want to go to Salisbury Castle.”

I didn’t say the reason. But my father guessed it.

“Are you going to see that damn woman?”

Because that’s where my mother is.

“That’s not the reason. In fact, the reason I’m going to see my mother is because of marriage.”

With those words, I told my father my plan.

“Crazy bastard.”

“Pardon?”

My father, who was cursing at me like that,

“Hehehe.”

Smiled contentedly like the protagonist of a twist movie.

He said again.

“No, have I ever seen a son who is so cute and crazy?”

I don’t know if this is a compliment or a curse.

“I’ll help you have an interview with that woman.”

My father, who allowed the touching mother-son reunion, smiled.

**

The manager guarding the exile said in a cautious voice.

“Your Highness, visitation has been granted.”

“Thank you.”

She had become noticeably emaciated,

But still a beautiful woman.

Anyone would think she was a beautiful woman in her 30s, but in reality, she was a woman over 50.

The beauty of the century doesn’t seem to age well.

Yes, this person is my biological mother, Queen Eleanor.

She looked at me bitterly and said,

“Did that guy send you?”

Wow! My mother. She calls Henry II ‘that guy’.

“I’m very sorry for not visiting you all this time.”

In fact, I have nothing to be sorry for.

The problem started with Henry II’s hopeless womanizing.

I’m just the youngest son my mother gave birth to last.

But people are not rational.

I am the only child to whom Henry II expresses affection.

She may feel uncomfortable with me because of that.

“John, come closer.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“My poor son, what do you want that you came to see this mother?”

That’s a pointed remark.

But I don’t have any tact.

“I want to get married.”

“Marriage?”

My mother’s beautiful eyebrows furrowed at my unexpected words.

“Is it to forget Princess Agnes?”

At that very moment.

The cold eyes of the mother who was looking at the ridiculous youngest son,

Turned into soft eyes looking at the heartbroken youngest son.

‘Okay, players enter.’

At that time.

My eyes turned red.

“Mother…”

“Yes, John, come here.”

“Mother. Is love that is too painful not love?”

“I know… I know… Countless men who were anxious for me felt that way too. But I believed in your father’s love and became a foolish woman, and in the end, only regret remained.”

The mother, who was reminiscing about the past, shed hot tears.

Father was definitely wrong.

The mother shed tears silently. Not the tears of Eleanor, the politician of England,

The tears of Eleanor, who loved Henry II.

“But… I have to forget everything.”

“I’m trying to forget like my mother. So I’m trying to find another love.”

“Another love?”

“I want to propose to a young lady from a family that is related to my mother.”

I told my plan with a determined expression.

About a young lady (daughter of a noble) whom the poor son, who had suffered the pain of unrequited love, met really by chance.

There are many complicated stories.

In conclusion, John is trying to make a new start.

“Ha… you want to marry that house’s daughter?”

“Mother, she is the woman who took my broken heart.”

“Ha. Henry, I know why that old man sent you. You are also a man of the Anjou (Plantagenet) family. How are you so similar to your brothers in being greedy.”

The mother, who was slurring her words like that.

“I’ll write a letter of introduction to that family. Even if it’s Henry, that old man, they won’t reject my proposal.”

The mother insisted on helping me.

At those words, I hugged my mother and said,

“Mother, thank you so much.”

Then the mother also hugged me and said,

“If you’re grateful, tell that guy, no, the King of England, to release me from this stuffy exile?”

“Yes, I will definitely tell my father.”

“Thank you, my youngest.”

‘Am I crazy? To ask for the release of the leader of the rebellion.’

I said that, but it’s a request I can’t grant.

If I release my mother, whose specialty is instigating rebellions, a rebellion will break out before I can even build a foundation.

I’m going back to London.

I forgot about my mother, who was pitifully exiled.

I remembered the appearance of her I happened to meet.

**

I looked at the woman in front of me.

‘I’m changing history from here.’

Unlike the original King John, who married his relative, Countess Isabella of Gloucester, to gain territory, tangled his genealogy, and was watched by the Pope and banned from sleeping together.

I wanted to buy influence instead of territory.

So I came to formally propose today.

“I didn’t know Prince John would choose our family,” the person who will become my brother-in-law said with a happy expression.

But the woman behind him has an expression that she doesn’t like me.

“Wait a minute!”

I barely held back my laughter at that voice.

The family I proposed to is.

The most Viking-like family among the English Norman (Western Europeanized Viking) nobles.

Of course, the young lady of that family.

“Ha, to marry Prince John, who sings Minnesang [German, medieval love songs]. Brother, are you crazy?”

As expected, she said harsh words to me.

It was understandable.

Because she was very pretty.

Mary de Clare (2)