Menders nodded. He knew.
“For some people, new challenges or interests help,” Franz went on. “Being Queen could provide that, but it’s a challenge she doesn’t want and that she truly wasn’t ready for.”
“She won’t leave the Palace,” Menders said suddenly, surprising himself.
Franz stared at him.
“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice tense.
“She seems to be afraid. It isn’t because she loves the place,” Menders tried to explain. “She hates it there, but she won’t leave. She hasn’t even gone down the street to see Borsen’s. She won’t go riding in the grounds or go to the stable see her horse. She stays in the suite most of the time.”
“What does she do while she’s there?” Franz asked.
“Reads. Paints. She’ll play DeGratz with me. Talks with Hemmett. Borsen comes trudging up the street three times a week to visit. Varnia comes a couple of times on her way to and from her various charities. Katrin looks forward to their visits. But any time I suggest she go out, even in a closed carriage, she seems interested initially, but then finds a reason not to go. It’s too cold, it’s going to be dark soon, she’s tired, she feels a fever coming on.”
“Does she have fever?”
“Not that I can tell. She gets frightened, starts to breathe quickly. I can see her heart pounding. She can’t make decisions either – everything from what to wear to whether to abdicate or not.”
“It’s worse than I thought,” Franz said. “She needs to get away from there right now. I wouldn’t even suggest her coming here. She needs to go someplace entirely new. Coming here will re-ignite a lot of other memories and could make her even worse.”
“How am I going to get her out of there if she won’t go?” Menders asked in frustration. “I can’t drag the Queen out of the Palace kicking and screaming!”
Franz said nothing, just lit a cigar.
“She did come to me yesterday and said that she wanted to wear the formal gown, hoping that would help get the attention of the Council,” Menders said after a moment. “It’s the first genuine interest she’s shown in anything for a while.”
“The vampire Queen gown? Menders, that could make things even worse, particularly for a young woman with Katrin’s cosmetic sense.”
“I know.” Menders closed his eyes. “I’ll try to see if I can get her to leave for a while. Possibly she’d consider going to Leptham or to visit Dorlane at Moresby.”
“That’s a thought. Only happy memories there,” Franz said.
“What about Marjana?” Menders asked after a moment. He had been to see Eiren’s mother and was shocked and saddened by her rapid decline over only a few weeks.
Franz puffed on his cigar.
“It’s going to be a long, hard road,” he said. “Any woman who has survived eight childbirths and years of farm work is strong. It’s going to take a long time to kill her. I give her two more years at least, and most of it’s going to be ugly. I’ve supplied her with a fatal dose of ramplane, but right now she’s frightened and clinging to life. Resignation doesn’t come until later, if it does at all. She’s very dependent on Eiren and Sana, now that the other children have all married and gone to homes of their own. There are still some good days and she’s making the most of them.”
Menders said nothing. He was trying to calm his mind, which was roiling with resentment and sorrow and a desperate desire to be free of all of it, to be somewhere or someone else.
“Eiren’s holding up well,” Franz went on. “I’ve convinced her not to live at her parents’ house just yet. The later she becomes an integral part of the situation, the better. I’ve also insisted the other children do part of it. Some of them were claiming to be busy with family responsibilities and the like, but I put an end to that. If need be, I’ll insist that Eiren go back to you in Erdahn.”
“It isn’t much better there,” Menders sighed.
“I know. Is Katrin drinking?”
Menders looked at Franz, startled.
“Wine with dinner occasionally, yes. I haven’t noticed her drinking more than that,” he answered.
“Start looking for signs that she’s drinking and hiding it,” Franz said, stubbing out his cigar. “She’s going to start doing something to feel better, especially if she’s panicked or frightened. She must not start drinking. You’re going to have to force her into a routine. Otherwise, she’s going to start sleeping all day and staying up all night to avoid coping with life. The more you can keep her on an even keel, the better. The sooner her situation is resolved, the better. The fact is that she shouldn’t be Queen. If there’s any way for that to stop, it would be best.”
“I’ve always known that,” Menders said tiredly. “The problem is that she is Queen, and grown, and I can’t just tell her what to do any more.”
***
Menders and Katrin looked at the formal gown of the Queen of Mordania, the only garment the Queen ever appeared in. It had been handed down over centuries. The core of it was supposedly the same dress worn by Morghenna the Wise when she and the first Lord Stettan led a people’s revolution against the Surelian Occupation. The first Lord Stettan had specifically chosen the color red for the dress so that their army could easily see the young Queen on the battlefield and rally to her quickly. It had been added to ever since – leather and metal armor plates, padding, jewels.
It was atrocious.
It hung from a large, iron stand. It weighed almost a hundred pounds.
Menders ordered it thoroughly cleaned, with soap and then with steam. Katrin had been infinitely relieved to find that it required a stiff corset to be worn underneath, which would keep it from directly touching most of her skin. She’d refused to consider the corset Aidelia and her mother had worn, remembering how filthy both women were. She had Borsen make a duplicate, which he had done under violent protest. It was reinforced with steel. When Katrin crushed her body into it, flattening her breasts and squeezing her hips and bottom, it was painful.
“All right,” Katrin said wearily, casting off the dressing gown she wore, revealing that she was already in the corset, with a shift underneath to prevent the steel stays from pressing too painfully on her skin, “Let’s put the damned thing on.”
The dress opened at the back. Katrin stepped into it. Menders began closing the buckles and tabs on the back, each one clicking noisily into place in the silence. When the final fastener was secure, Katrin felt as if she could barely breathe.
The weight of the thing was incredible and she hadn’t even tried to step off the stand.
“You’ll need the shoes,” Menders said quietly, setting the elevated pattens in place before her, so she could step into them. Otherwise, the hem of the weighty dress would drag the ground and trip her.
Katrin stepped into the shoes. Menders buckled them on for her. Then he steadied her as she stepped off the platform of the dress stand.
“Oh gods!” she gasped, as the weight of the dress, no longer supported by the stand, hung from her body. “Oh gods!”
No wonder her mother had been such a sad, drunken woman, with this terrible weight burdening her! Why would anyone put a woman in such a terrible thing?
Menders was deliberately not looking at her. She knew he couldn’t bear it.
She took a step and then another, the dress clanking around her, the armor plates moving like so much sheet metal. At least the skirt was a stiff cone shape, held out by a cagelike farthingale, so it didn’t tangle around her legs. The clanking sound made her feel sick, bringing back memories of Aidelia wearing this wretched garment.
“I’ll be in big trouble if I need a piss,” Katrin said suddenly, feeling a surge of humor, grinning at Menders. He looked at her in surprise. She didn’t swear often.
“I believe there was a special pot,” he replied, smiling back at her.
“Please, don’t get it. Don’t bring it to me. Should I need to visit the privy, you’ll just have to get me out of this thi
ng. I certainly don’t intend to wear it often,” Katrin answered, feeling for a moment like her old self. “Let’s hope it gets the attention of those puffed up twits.”
“It will do that,” Menders said, looking at the horrible dress. “There’s a king’s ransom set in it.”
“Don’t I know it. I feel every ounce,” Katrin sighed, walking forward again. “What a wretched, stupid thing – like everything else about being Queen.”
The Palace, Erdahn, Mordania
6
Stagnant
D
earest Little Bird,
I just had to spend some time with you, even if it’s only through a letter. I miss you so much.
It’s been a wretched week here. Katrin tried wearing that cursed dress to a Council meeting for the third time. She can barely move in it. The dress has a terrible affect on her emotions. To make matters worse, the damned Council continues to ignore her. She has refused to sign their documents a time or two. That does get their attention. It always results in a yelling match which exhausts and upsets her. She gives in to them after she’s hurt and furious enough. I can’t blame her. In all honesty, I think I would too.
She has made some headway with the staff by wearing the dress, which evokes terror in them. The place is cleaner and I’m not having to press my own suits and iron my own shirts, as if I didn’t have enough to cope with. It goes against Katrin’s grain to do all this shouting and fit-throwing, which is apparently the only way things get done around here. We’ve decided to start bringing in new staff and rotating them out after a few months to the other royal estates. New brooms sweep clean, as you know.
Otherwise, Katrin continues as usual, melancholic and afraid to leave the Palace. I’ve suggested going to The Shadows, going to Leptham, visiting Dorlane, touring the other Royal estates to see what they are like, going to Surelia, going with Hemmett to visit Luntigré and Flori – nothing. She finds excuses.
Enough of that. Tell me about how things are going. I am hoping to come at the end of the week, but Bertel stopped by and offered to carry a letter back, so I jumped at the opportunity.
I have decided to acquire a Rollig device at the Palace. The military has had them for some years, but I would like a faster means of communicating with the Men and The Shadows, not having to depend on hand carried letters.
I hope our Mama is continuing comfortable. Kiss her from me and tell her I will be there, probably in two days. Hemmett will be coming with me. We’re hoping Katrin might be willing to venture out with both of us escorting her. Hemmett wants to see his parents. He’s been very worried since he was sent word of Lucen’s illness.
I think of you so much. I wish… never mind.
I love you,
M
Hello darling!
What a wonderful surprise to get your letter – and then Ifor and Kaymar turned up. They’re going to be taking the boat right back to Erdahn, so I have a chance to get a letter out to you.
Mama is still continuing comfortable. There isn’t much pain and what there is can be controlled with ramplane. We took her to see the ice animals the other day, which she’s always loved. Then she had a good time seeing the boys out sledding. We’re taking each day as it comes. So far there have been more good days than bad.
I’m so sorry to hear about Katrin and all the troubles. I was shocked the last time I saw her. She’s so diminished looking. I have read all I could find on melancholia. It seems to be a terrible mystery. I hope she will come along with you and Hemmett.
Having a Rollig device would be so wonderful! To be able to be in touch with you right away would be a mercy, even if it was just a message saying good night or good morning. Haakel loves the idea, though he rumpusses that it should be for official use only. It would save much writing and letter carrying.
I can’t wait until you’re here, my love. Kaymar is stalking around the hallway, so I’d better close.
Loving you always,
Your Eiren
Dearest Little Bird,
I have sorted it out with Katrin that I will be going to The Shadows at least twice a week and more if possible, so do not trouble yourself about this any more. I am sorry about Katrin’s condition and I’m doing all I can to find a doctor who will be able to help her, but she simply cannot keep me from going to help you.
It is nothing personal directed at you, as you know. She is deathly afraid of being alone, of going out, of me being away from her, etc. We’ve worked it out so that Hemmett and I are not gone at the same time. That seems to have settled things for her. She became terrified when we were both at The Shadows a few weeks ago. Villison ended up having to sit with her all day and put her through endless games of Watch the Lady. He sent down to Borsen, who came with Varnia. They stayed with her that night until we got back.
I have talked to her at great length about abdication and have tried to work a way it can be done to her satisfaction – in other words, without killing anyone. It might be possible to set up a Regent Council for Glorantha rather than allowing her father to become Regent. There would always be the danger of skullduggery on his part to gain power, however.
Katrin is digging in her heels. She is determined that wearing that damned dress is getting her somewhere and, gods help me, she’s now asking me for the teeth and wig! She’s convinced that they frighten people. They do, particularly me because of the way she gets when she’s wearing the damned things. There is much bravado while she’s wearing them, but then she gets very upset and cries.
I’ve tried to get her to go elsewhere for a change of scene. If I bring it up she panics. It’s very genuine and terrible to see. Terrible for her too, because it makes her physically ill. She has nightmares afterward. Even suggesting Leptham had the same effect. And of course, I can’t drag her from the Palace or render her unconscious and cart her out.
Enough of this. It’s the same old story, but I have secured our bit of time together. I was also going to suggest that you try to come here during this time while your mother is still fairly well. You will not have much opportunity later.
I am so sorry about all this Eiren, but I don’t see any other way, at least for now. I want so much to be with you. Please forgive me.
Your loving husband,
M
Darling Menders,
Please don’t apologize for things you and Katrin can’t help! I fully understand she is suffering from an illness. She is the Queen. She does have responsibilities and she’s trying, as best she can in her state, to carry them out. I am furious with the Council for treating her as they do, and furious as well with the foolish women who came before her and caused this situation. It’s hard to believe that in the past there was a Queen called “The Wise” and another called “Clearheart” – the latest crop of Queens should have been called “The Drunkard” and “The Mad”. Of course, we had “The Terrible”, didn’t we?
Don’t mind me, I’m feeling snipey today. Mama has been feeling sorry for herself and though I certainly can’t blame her, it wears on the nerves. Thankfully, Sana is taking over for me here for a week so I can come to you. Perhaps I can talk to Katrin and help her understand that she really is ill and needs to try a change of scene. Let the dratted Council go to her if they need a signature!
I can’t wait to see you! I warn you, I intend to go to Borsen’s and try to make you a poor man. I was looking at my things the other day and they are sadly worn. This will not do for the wife of the Royal Advisor!
Bertie’s champing at the bit to get back to Erdahn in daylight, so I will stop now. Try to stay cheerful, my love, and I will see you in a few days.
Your Eiren
***
Menders met Eiren at the dock. She leapt off the boat almost before it stopped moving and was in his arms. Though he had been making a point of getting back to The Shadows often, it was always only for a day at a time. He knew she was delirious at the idea of spending a week together.
He, on the other hand, was worri
ed about her seeing Katrin for the first time in a year. Katrin was enormously changed for the worse. It would be a shock.
It was indeed. He saw Eiren go pale and was glad he had arranged things so that she would see Katrin before Katrin saw her.
Katrin, not taking part in the usual walking and riding that had been her regular forms of exercise, had gained weight. It did not look bad on her, but combined with a face puffy from too much sleep and too much drink, to Menders’ dismay and anger, she had aged noticeably.
Katrin was indeed drinking, as Franz had suspected. After enough vociferous arguments about it, Menders had given up. Otherwise, Katrin became upset and drank even more after the arguments. She wasn’t drinking until she was drunk all the time, as her mother had, but she was drinking to get herself to sleep, and then drinking to counteract the hangover the next morning. It did not sit well on her. When she did get drunk, she was morose.
Eiren stepped back out of sight with an almost silent gasp of dismay. Menders rapidly walked her away so that Katrin couldn’t possibly hear her.
“Gods!” she said, tears coming to her eyes. “I wouldn’t have recognized her. Oh gods, Menders!”
“I know. It shocks me every time I’m away for the day. Borsen goes pale every time he walks in. Stevahn came with him one night and I thought he was going to need a drink himself to get over it. Hemmett, on the other hand, never shows a thing but then goes and takes it out on a training dummy with a bayonet. We’ve gone through quite a few training dummies.”
“Can’t you get rid of the drink? Just get all the drink out of the Palace?” Eiren asked desperately.
Love and Sacrifice: Book Two of the Prophecy Series Page 65