by Lara Blunte
While she was on horseback, Isobel felt the distinct change in temperature and climate as they arrived in the Midlands and, later, as they entered Lathia.
It became warmer and warmer; the very sun seemed to shine more brightly, and the sky became a solid blue. From the rolling hard hills of Stonemount, through the moors of the Midlands, they went on to an expansion of very lush and green land.
Flowers were everywhere, and they were of every color this May. Fruit hung from leafy trees in wild abundance. There were endless landscaped fields of wheat; it seemed that the hand of man had shaped and increased what God had first created.
There were animals too, which looked healthier and better fed than a lot of people in her country.
She started to understand that her father was right, that this was the future. This was what peace could do. They had often talked about the crops that could grow in Stonemount to alleviate hunger, but they knew they needed the wars to end before they planted. They needed men to work on the land, instead of going to battle. Now, through her marriage, they would have warmer and more fertile lands as well.
She felt a painful twitch in her stomach when she thought about her marriage. It was going to be her sacrifice for her people, for her brothers. Harry was among the party going to Lathia, and she had seen him several times along the way, throwing looks of unconcealed fury at her. She had started to return his angry looks; she could be as vile and stubborn as he was.
He would not stay behind: he would not fail to stand in the church at her wedding to remind her of her fickleness. Yet when she saw him riding by so handsome, strong and free, she couldn't help feeling the whole weight of her passion, and being overwhelmed by what she was losing. She was giving up Harry for the southern prince, less than half a man.
The closer they got to the capital, the better Tibold's people lived. She didn't long for that ease for herself, but she wanted it for others. She wondered how Lathia could produce strong people when everything seemed to be handed to them from heaven. The peasants, taking off their caps and smiling at them with their own teeth, looked better than most of the nobles in the north!
When they saw Lathia rising in the distance, her father asked her to dismount and climb into the closed cart, but she stood there a while, looking at the path that led to the biggest city she had ever seen. Stonemount was a puny village compared to Lathia.
An imposing castle with six towers rose above row upon row of houses, streets, churches and squares. A cathedral was being built in a fashion she had never seen before: it seemed to reach heaven. It would still take years for it to be complete, but she thought there must be nothing like it anywhere else.
As they passed through the gates, she saw the orderly throng of people on either side. They were cheering for them and throwing flowers at her cart. She had to narrow her eyes against the glare of the sun on the sandstone. Near the castle, she closed the curtain to compose herself. She found that her heart was beating frantically and that her hands were cold. Dorthe frowned at her, as if telling her to pull herself together. She frowned back: she would.
Inside the courtyard of the castle, she stepped down from the cart and looked up, and she felt shock.
The people on the steps were arrayed like birds and peacocks; all colors of the rainbow must be there, and more. Though she knew that southern women didn't cover their hair, it was almost overwhelming to see them all with bare heads and long tresses cascading down their backs. Even Queen Elinor, who wore her crown, had dark hair that reached her waist!
These women wore many jewels, and she had put on the only one she possessed, an emerald ring that had belonged to her mother, whose stone was rough. She almost felt like hiding it, but instead decided to flaunt it. She would flaunt her ugly ring, her headpiece, her wimple, her plain woolen dress. Her eyes became stubborn as she looked at the people on the steps.
And then came the moment she had dreaded the most: Prince Tameas was descending the steps to meet her. He was a very handsome man of four and twenty; his dark hair was smooth and shiny and he wore it short, as the southerners had done in the last years. His eyes were green and their look penetrating, which she had not expected. He was tall and had good legs, but he wasn't as broad-shouldered as Harry. Everyone said that he hadn't fought any battles, that he had probably sat in this fat land ordering wine and food. It wouldn't be long before the perfection of his youth gave way to flaccid obesity, she thought.
His clothes were much better than hers as well. He sported a sky-blue doublet, whose sleeves opened to reveal a linen shirt of spotless white underneath. His breeches were also of fine cotton and dark blue, and his boots of supple leather were of the same color.
She could not like a man who took so much trouble to look fashionable. She didn't realize it, but her scowl was telling him everything that she was thinking. He was more of a woman than she was!
And when he bowed! Good heavens, could a prince have so little spine that he bowed that low? And even lower the second time?
She didn't like anything that she saw, the flimsy castle that wouldn't withstand a single siege, the elegant, pretty prince she was to marry, or any of the colorful birds hardly hiding their derision behind soft hands and ornate fans.
There was only one thing that she liked: Princess Agnetta. The girl stepped forward, and she had none of her brother's irony in her smile. She had a real welcome in her eyes, and ignored Isobel's attire. Agnetta held her hand and Isobel felt true warmth in hers, and immediately liked her.
Isobel brought her brothers forward, encouraged by the princess' kindness. She believed the girl understood that the boys were her greatest love because she seemed to look at them with the same generosity that she had shown while greeting her future sister-in-law.
As they all turned to climb the stairs into the castle, Isobel walked next to her betrothed without a word, but she told herself she might yet have a friend in Agnetta.
THE CUSTOM
There was a to-do inside the castle, with the guests being offered refreshments, then urged by the queen to adjourn to their quarters to rest and change.
"Change into what?" Donnet wondered, when he and Tameas were alone in the prince's antechamber. "More black?"
"Smaller head pieces, I should hope," said Tameas.
"You look haunted, my friend," Donnet added.
They had known each other from the time they were born; Donnet was six months older than Tameas, and his father had been Tibold's most prized counselor before he and his wife had succumbed to a bad fever. Blood brothers could not have been closer than the two young men were, or love each other more.
"Did you see the look she gave me?" Tameas asked.
Donnet was laughing soundlessly in his belly. "It was as if you were an enormous cow dropping on her way," he said with unkind tears in his eyes.
"Do you think she can be trained to seem civil in two and a half days?" Tameas wondered. "I already get that look from my father, I really don't want to have it in my bed..."
They eyed each other and spluttered with laughter again, both of them imagining the scene.
"Oh, what a wedding night!" Donnet said.
Tameas widened his eyes. "''Sblood! I will feel like the virgin being violated, that much I can assure you!"
"Well, prepare yourself for the occasion. You have very little time! I'll leave you now."
The prince held on to his friend's sleeve. "Where are you going?"
"To have a nap before this long, long, long dinner."
"Be back here by sundown," Tameas hissed after him. "Or I will have you killed!"
He could see Donnet's shoulders shaking with laughter as he walked out.
Later that afternoon Tameas met Duke Benedikt and his counselors, including Lord Wilmot, in the presence of the king, Lord Jollan and Sir Jochim.
The duke seemed an eminently reasonable man to Tameas. Neither he nor his lords appeared to have the untamed northern energy that he had seen in his future wife. He already knew
that she was the only daughter of Benedikt's, otherwise he might have asked if he could pick a different one.
By the end of the agreeable conversation, he rather felt like marrying the duke.
Instead, he was sent off to meet with Lady Isobel alone and get her agreement to the marriage from her own lips, as was the custom.
On the way, as he rehearsed some sort of speech that already sounded false, he was intercepted by his eager little sister, who started to run her hand through his hair and instruct him, "Don't forget to tell her how happy you are that she will be your wife."
"Lie, you mean, to a plain and honest person? Well, she can hardly despise me more."
"Stop, Tommy. She doesn't despise you. Can you not see that she must have been frightened?"
"She looked frightening."
"Well, she was confused! If you are kind, you will see how lovely she will become. I saw it in her eyes."
"I didn't look in her eyes, for fear of turning to stone."
Agnetta slapped his arm. "Tommy, be good!"
"All right. Now she is waiting, so let me go."
He kissed his sister and kept on walking towards his betrothed. Outside the room that held Lady Isobel he decided not to look so well behaved and shook his locks, loosening the knots on his doublet.
Then he walked in.
Isobel was in the room alone, and she had changed into a dress of lighter gray and, thankfully, a smaller cone-like black headpiece with a while wimple around her face and neck. She seemed determined not to have an inch of flesh, apart from hands and face, showing.
She was beautiful, though, in the soft afternoon light. Her eyes sparkled like gems and her mouth was like a tempting fruit. However, that mouth still insisted on not returning his smile, so he became serious. He had promised Agnetta to give this uncouth girl a chance and he would, though he didn't trust his own patience. She ought to know that he did not like this any more than she did.
Now, what to say?
"Lady Isobel, I hope you have liked our kingdom so far..."
"Kingdom!" she repeated the word lifting her eyebrows.
He thought she might as well add an exclamation of derision, like Ha! or Foh! She was obviously of the mind that they had no right to the title of princes and kings, though she was about to become a princess, and one day the queen.
He found that he was beginning to smile ironically and tried to control his own expression as he ventured further into the room.
She, on the other hand, seemed to realize that she wasn't being polite and said, "I think Lathia is a very harmonious and plentiful land."
Her voice was low-pitched, which was unexpected considering how young and girlish she looked. If he were to be nagged all his life, better that it should be by a low voice like hers than a high one, he thought, trying to find a positive side to things.
"Thank you. I know that nevertheless you will have to get used to our ways, and that isn't always easy."
"We must all do what is difficult," she said dryly. "It is our duty."
"Indeed."
It was normal for a young man's thoughts to turn to love when he was alone with a beautiful woman. Tameas did wonder what her hair might be like under those forbidding headpieces, or whether she was slender or voluptuous under her rather shapeless dress; but her hard stare did not allow his eyes a moment to rove over her undetected, and her pretty lips were twisted in so much disdain that he couldn't imagine himself kissing them with pleasure. She was like some frozen matter that had been fashioned into a pleasant shape, or like the most forbidding guard in his father's pay, watching the gates of delight with a frown.
"As you say, we must all do what is difficult," he told her. "And I am to ask you to marry me."
There was a flash of pride in her eyes at this barbed insult. In fact, he thought, it wasn't barbed at all. He was already becoming a blunt northerner, and had known her less than one day.
"Yes, Your Highness," she said. "I will marry you."
"I can hardly wait," he told her, bowing.
And then, since everything that needed to be said had been said, he bowed again and left, meaning to find Donnet and relay the encounter to him. Yet it was Agnetta who materialized behind a column to hang from his arm and ask eagerly, “Did she say yes?”
He tilted his head at his sister, narrowing his eyes, “No, she came miles and miles bumping in that cart to tell me that she would rather die than marry me.”
“Don’t be clever and tell me all she said!” Agnetta ordered.
“I will tell you then,” Tameas said.
The girl’s face changed to alarm when she saw that he was about to grab her and probably torture her. She turned swiftly on her heels and ran down the corridor, shrieking, “No, no!”
She was stopped by her father’s tall figure. The king stepped onto the corridor just in time to take his daughter by the arms. She turned a laughing face up to him, and his eyes shone with joy and tenderness as he looked down at her.
“Why, where is my squirrel going so fast?”
Agnetta threw her arms around Tibold as Elinor approached. “I have already told you, Agnetta, not to run in the corridor like that ever, no matter the provocation!”
She turned towards the provocation, her stepson, who was leaning against the wall.
“Tameas was going to strangle me,” Agnetta told the king. “Or tickle me, I don’t know.”
“Strangle,” Tameas said.
“Oh, no he was not!” Tibold said, holding Agnetta close. “Who could do that to my Birdie? Not even the evil prince!”
Agnetta put her chin on her father’s chest and closed her eyes. Tibold caressed her upturned cheek, and Tameas saw the sudden grief on the king's face as he gazed at the daughter he so loved.
Tameas felt a pang of cold dread in his stomach, yet he seemed calm when Tibold asked him, ”Did she say yes?”
From the sanctuary of her father’s arms, Agnetta turned towards her brother, mischievously daring him to give Tibold the same facile answer he had given her, but Tameas said instead, “Yes, she is delighted to become my wife and a princess of Lathia.”
“I don’t suppose she is delighted,” Tibold said. “But her conformity will do, until you can lure her into some sort of happiness.”
“Oh, that will be easy,” Tameas replied with a smile.
“Why are we standing in the corridor like servants?” Elinor asked with a sigh.
Tibold looked at Agnetta again, “Come with me, my sweet, he won’t be able to tickle you!”
He kept walking towards the stairs with his wife, holding his daughter by the hand; but when they started to go down the steps Agnetta looked back at Tameas and, breaking away from her father, she ran in her brother’s direction once more, happy to undergo torture as long as she could be with him.
A LAST CHANCE
That night a lavish dinner was served after the return of the lords and ladies who had been on the steps. They looked even more magnificent than before, glowing in their colors, wearing jewels and rich fabrics as if each of them were vying to become a king or queen.
Queen Elinor was the most wonderfully arrayed of all, in a dress of deep red, with gleaming stones around her ears and neck, and the crown on her dark head. Her hair was now caught in a net that seemed made of gold and she wore a belt low around her waist that had more jewels on it, as well as exquisite embroidery. The wide sleeves of her gown showed that she was not meant to do much with her hands, and in fact she ate and drank using very small movements, yet turned her black eyes avidly on all the people before her.
The food was so plentiful that Isobel could not help thinking that she might have kept an army for days with it: there was a great variety of game, birds, nuts and fresh fruit. There was an endless supply of good wine as well.
Her own betrothed sat next to her, his sister on his other side. On her right Isobel had her own brothers, whom she had already cuffed on the head for fighting with each other. She noticed, flushing, that
Agnetta had widened her eyes a little at this, and that Tameas was laughing into his wine glass after exchanging a look with the tall young man who must be a good friend to him, and who was seated at a lower table.
She saw Harry as well, drinking more than he usually did and hardly eating. Their eyes crossed and she looked away from his scowl, not wanting to display her love for him to all the people who were watching her, including her future husband.
Agnetta kept up a conversation with her over Tameas, who had leaned back in his chair and was drinking steadily. By the way he looked around and tapped a finger on his cup made of glass ─something to wonder at later, she thought ─ he was drinking to alleviate his boredom. It must be hard for a wild, ungovernable man without principles as he was to behave in formal company. He must prefer to amuse himself in taverns, where he could drink more and more quickly than he was doing at present.
Isobel could not bring herself to speak to Agnetta openly when her brother was there, always smiling as if he knew things that she did not, so her answers were curt and she was ashamed to think that she might be doing a discourtesy to a girl she very much liked.
However, Agnetta didn't seem to notice and remained very sweet. At times she managed to drag Tameas into the conversation, but Isobel would become quiet when he spoke, so that the couple about to be married ended up talking to Agnetta, but not to each other.
I hope she stays with us the whole of our marriage, Isobel thought, little knowing that Tameas was wishing the same thing.
"Birdie!"
The exclamation came from the prince, who had caught his sister trying to sip wine from his cup, and had moved it away. He did not cuff her, but pretended to pull at her hair instead.
It was the first time that he had done anything that Isobel had liked, because she could see by Agnetta's naughty expression, the smile they exchanged, and the loving nickname he had used for her that they adored each other, much as she adored her brothers. Her own way of disciplining the boys was admittedly a little more violent, and she was pinching Kayetan's thigh hard under the table for currently using an invention he had never seen before, the fork, to stab at anything and everything.