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He confronts Sir Capon after he wakes to a pouch of two hundred groschen on his pillow. It's been as such for three mornings in a row. How Hans has managed to sneak into the old Miller’s place and slip the pouch beneath the pillow without Henry knowing is a mystery to him.
Though he supposes it has something to do with Miller shutting up about the debt he owed him.
So, Henry surmises, not only is Hans giving him groschen, sporadically. He’s settling his accounts.
And while Henry may be a humble man in both beginnings and pocket–his pride won’t allow Hans to treat him like some decorated concubine. No matter the specifics of their relationship.
Thus, at present, he seeks to put an end to Hans’ alms giving with a stern dressing down and a reminder that Henry can and does fend for himself. Sometimes.
He finds the older, taller man shirtless in the courtyard that has turned into a mud pit courtesy of yesterday's heavy rain. Hans fights like a wallowing piglet with another gentleman. Henry recognizes him as one of the ruffian lords that he'd encountered the first time he'd brawled with Hans.
The son of some Earl if Henry remembers correctly. He was an ass when they'd first met, but now he and Henry get on quite well. Even outside of Han's company. Though Henry limited his time joymaking with Hans friends, considering how handsy they get when they’re drunk.
It’s not becoming of an Earl to shag another Lord’s squire.
Though he doesn't look very earl-ish now. And Han's doesn't look very Lordly either.
He looks like a kid wrestling in a tar pit with his best friend.
A reminder that even Christ's chosen are boys at heart before they spring up, firm like trees, to preside over a land.
A snapping branch beneath Henry's feet announces his presence. Not that he was trying to be stealthy or anything like that. His presence was still frowned upon in the ring. A blacksmith's boy besting nobility was "bad for morale", Sir Hanush had offered, after Henry had a drunken brawl against Hans’s friends.
And to be fair, the Cumans were handing out beatings like pretzels, and Henry didn’t take well to anyone rough handling him. His natural inclination was to defend himself (it made for an interesting first time in bed with Hans).
"Henry!" Suddenly Henry bears the full attention of the Lord Capon. And despite the man being covered from head-to-toe in mud, Henry cannot get over how beautiful he looks. In his slow learning, he's read about Italian sculptors, understood how they saw a rock covered in imperfections and could sense the beauty just by intuition.
He thinks of himself as such now -- a sculptor looking at an ugly, misshapen rock. A rock that is barging towards him, dirt and grime included. Hans is a masterpiece, well sculpted body, sunkissed skin beneath the sheen of mud.
He finds his jaw hanging open, though it snaps shut as the small group of men laugh. He’s making a spectacle of himself, drooling at Hans like he is.
Henry pointedly ignores the chorus of jeers and whistles around him. Their relationship isn't exactly public, per se. But Han's hasn't exactly made it a secret.
Just about everyone and their sister knows that their soon-to-be Lord is fucking the Skalitz refugee every day but Sunday. And Hans is no gentleman in bed, that’s for sure.
"My Lords," he inclines low, acknowledging the mess of boys in front of him.
"I'm here to attend to Lord Capon" -- translation, I need to talk to Hans privately. The message is 'clear as day, met with ‘oohhs’ and ‘ahss’ and ‘don’t break him Hans’ from the group.
The young Earls and Lords playfully clap Capon's shoulder, snickering and whispering lewd obscenities as they walk past Henry.
When they’re alone (and Henry checks–casting a careful look over his shoulder), the blacksmith's son makes a bee line for the trough, soaking a rag in the cool water and gesturing for Hans to come beside him.
His Lord does not hesitate. Trotting like a dog to a meal. His hair, golden peaks visible even through the mud, doesn't help dispel the image. Henry marvels on how much their relationship has evolved. How Han's two months ago would have scoffed at being at the beck and call of a common blacksmiths’ son.
Said blacksmith's son smiles as Han stands a few comfortable feet away from him. Henry begins cleaning the man, starting with circular motions on his bare chest. Hans leans in, taking the action as an invitation for more.
"Wait until you're clean, please. Baths cost more for me than you," Henry inches backwards before Han’s lips can reach his.
“Use that groschen I have under your bedroll to pay for it then.”
Henry gawks. Hans seizes the moment, capturing Henry's lips in a muddy kiss.
“That's–” Henry pulls away, breathing as he attempts to speak. Its a futile attempt. Hans finds his lips again and uses a muddy hand to encase Henry's smaller wrist.
“What I came out here to talk about–” Henry regains some sense of freedom before Hans is on him again, the Lord's free arm pulling Henry's frame into his. Now he really would have to go to the baths later.
“What? You don't want my money?” Momentarily, Henry finds a pause in the madness that is Hans's groping and kissing, only to yelp when Hans repositions his mouth between Henry's neck and collar bone.
“Hans, people might be watching.”
“I don’t give a fuck. Let them. I hardly get to see you anymore. You've run off playing knight in shining armour with Radzig and his men.” Hans sighs into soft skin and brown shorn hair, “It's getting unbearable. It's taking God and all his angels to stop me from bending you over and–”
Henry, brighter than Raspberry, interrupts the older man.
“Sir Hans, I didn't know Lord's acted so wanton," He says, sarcastically, falling into their usual roleplay, “you haven't even presented me with proper gifts yet.”
“I have. Several of them,” Hans nips at Henry's collar bone, “but for some reason, you refuse them.”
“Because I’m not your charity case, Hans.” Henry stops the Lord's roaming hands from finding refuge in his trousers.
Hans sighs, a long, insufferable sigh before detaching himself from Henry. He takes the rag as he does so, and sloppily rubs the towel on his body. To his credit, he cleans somewhat well.
“Is it not a Lord's duty to provide for his people?”
“Do you provide for the other Skalitz refugees?” Henry returns, pointedly.
“I let them live here for free, don’t I? And I’m not fucking the whole of Skaltiz. Just you.” Hans grimaces as he speaks the words after it's too late. The change is near instantaneous. Henry’s calm demeanor melts into a stoic impression of a common man, eyes averted away from Lord Capon’s face.
“I apologize, Lord Capon. Had I known you took me for a common whore, I would have taken my affections elsewhere.” He says, monotonously. Sharply, he turns to leave, yanking his wrist free of Han’s grip.
Hans reaches forward, recapturing Henry’s wrist and spinning him around. The smaller man hisses, wincing at the ferocity in which Hans grabs at him. He struggles.
“Henry, that's not what I meant and you know it.” The Lord releases his hand as Henry gasps again, “Sorry – I just – I care about you. I want you to be safe and provided for. And if you won’t let me spoil you then let me do this. Christ knows you haven’t gotten a livable wage despite your efforts here. Let me help you where I can.”
So badly does Henry want to remain angry. But he deflates at Hans sincerity.
“Do not grab me like that again, Hans.” He warns, rubbing his wrist. Then gently, he speaks.
“But I understand you, and I am grateful. It’s just hard. All of it. I am not used to this.” Being the object of his Lord’s affection. Being a survivor of Skalitz. The unsaid is spoken clear as day.
“I’m not used to it either, but you know this.” Hans smiles as he slings an arm around Henry, “But I think we’re learning together.”
“It’s much easier learning to read than navigating this. But i’d take this anyday.”
As if to solidify the declaration, Henry steals a quick kiss on Hans’s cheek, grimacing immediately when he’s met with caked mud.
“You need to go to the baths. You’re filthy.” He groans, wiping his lips on his sleeve, “and now I am too.”
“Come with me?” Hans asks, expectantly.
“Only if you pay, not spending all of your hard earned cash on the baths because you got me dirty.”