To his wife and support, Ranulf, Earl of Chester, sends this question.

Why on God's earth am I receiving commiserations and 'there-theres' from the Queen of England on the state of my marriage? What have you been telling her? And what, do you suppose, has she been telling her sons? Do you think we'll be allowed to keep Arthur and Eleanor if it looks like we haven't got it together? I--we--need to project some kind of working relationship, if you can't bring yourself to make one in reality.

Look, I'm sorry that things are turning out as they are, but there's nothing I can do about it. We need to work together to make this livable, because it's not going away. I'm not going away. Not without consequences that neither of us want to see happen.

Yours, in spite of your best efforts,
Ranulf

Dear Child, your wife, the Duchess of Brittany, sends a reply.

If you'd exercise your mind for just a moment, you'd see that Eleanor hardly needs information from me to know that you are scotching the marriage. Why do you think Henry picked a boy of your age? The entire point was to put pressure on me. You were a mere tool, and I assure you that the heirs of Plantagenet hardly need to do more than look at the way you strut and puff your chest out to know that you're insecure. If anyone needs to get it together, dearest husband, it's you.

Stop trying to be a man, boy. Just be one. The course will flow much more smoothly when I know you can offer the protection you swore to. Right now, you're nothing but a liability.

Anticipating Some Change,
Constance, Duchess of Brittany.