by Lara Blunte
"Such a land!" Isobel said, looking out at the green expanse dotted with flowers before her, at the willows and fruit trees.
"What is it like where you were born, then?" Donnet asked. "Is it awful?"
"Remind me to employ you as an ambassador, Don!" Tameas said wryly.
Isobel smiled, not minding Donnet's plain question. "You might think it awful, when you are used to this. Before the wars it was not so terrible, or at least my grandfather said it was not. Not that the weather was better than it is now, but it was not so barren and hard. The thing is..." she looked out again and sighed. "Here every day is beautiful; even when it rains, it's soft rain that just makes everything prettier. In Stonemount there is beauty, but it's wild. The sea doesn't lie down in front of you, it crashes against the rocks and the sky is all shades of gray. And there are moors and mountains which can suddenly look breathtaking, when the sun comes out for a while on them. There are lakes that are frozen sometimes, but in summer you can even swim in them, if you are hardy. I suppose the beauty in it is all hidden, you have to find it, and when you do, it's like something you have never seen before, almost like something sacred..."
She had never spoken for so long of something close to her heart in front of others, and she looked at them expecting to feel embarrassed, but they were all staring at her almost with longing, as if it might have been good to live in a place uglier than their land.
"I can almost see it," Agnetta said, as she knelt down behind Isobel and started to braid her hair. "It must be so striking …”
Donnet had been staring at Isobel's hair as it twisted between Agnetta's fingers, until the core of an apple hit his forehead. It had been thrown by Tameas, who narrowed his eyes at him.
"Did you not mind having your hair covered all the time?" Donnet asked the queen after making a face at his friend.
He now got a wide-eyed stare from Agnetta, and Tameas shook his head slightly as if he were hopeless.
"No, I did not mind," Isobel said. "We are all used to it. Ever since your Prince Edon tried to rape our Birgitta, we know we ought to do so to avoid the same fate."
Agnetta's hand had stopped braiding her hair, and Isobel caught the look between Tameas and Donnet.
"Do you not know the tale?" she asked.
"Well, it did not go quite like that," Tameas said, raising his eyebrows.
"What do you mean?" Isobel asked.
"It was the treacherous Lady Birgitta who tried to seduce the brave Prince Edon!" Donnet contributed.
Isobel rose to a kneeling position, her hands on her waist, and seemed outraged. "How can you say so?"
Tameas was nodding, "Because it is a very well known tale!"
"And why, I pray, did she then jump from the tower?" Isobel insisted.
"Because her plot was discovered and Prince Edon's soldiers surrounded her!" Donnet said.
Tameas raised his hand, "Not without the clever prince being the first to realize what her perfidious plan was!"
"Perfidious! I can't believe it! She was a lady of great purity, a saint!" Isobel said, and seeing that the two men exchanged another doubtful glance she turned toward Agnetta. "You know history, Annie, tell them!"
Agnetta found herself blushing. "Well, you see, it is not strictly history. At least, there may have been some truth to the story, but it has been appropriated by either side to prove a point, and probably very much embellished, whatever the origin was..."
"Oh, I think I should employ my sister as the ambassador," Tameas laughed. "Come, Agnetta, you know the story was true. Many noble southern men were drawn to their doom by these sorceresses of the north!"
"The cheek!" Isobel cried, launching fire through her eyes at her husband. "When we are modest women while here..."
She stopped and put her hand to her mouth, glancing at Agnetta again.
"Here they are all whores!" Tameas said as he and Donnet erupted in laughter.
"Well," Isobel said, blushing to the roots of her hair. "Not everyone. Not all!"
Tameas wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes, "I think the ambassadorial position goes to the queen after that statement. People of Lathia, not all women here are whores, only most!"
"Oh, do you?" Isobel asked and, taking up a cushion she threw herself against her husband, trying to stifle him with it.
There was a struggle on the ground between the royal couple, accompanied by much laughter. Donnet stood up and motioned with his head so that Agnetta would follow him. As they ran away from the canopy he took her hand, and she was glad there was no one there to see a happiness that was too great on her face.
THE SCENT OF REBELLION
The king walked in the garden with Duke Benedikt. His father-in-law had been asked to come so that the affairs that concerned him should be discussed in person.
Tameas had asked Isobel to outline what she wanted to do with the lands that had fallen into disuse. He had watched as the northerners paid close attention to what she told them and had reflected that they were more advanced than the south, as they showed by listening to whoever made sense, whether it was a man or a woman.
He was proud of her and her intelligence, her will to do good, and the way she explained things so that her father and his nobility only nodded eagerly, happy that this good scheme was going forward.
Tameas had not wanted to watch Sir Harry, but couldn't help stealing a glance at him, only to see what was inevitable: his undying love for Isobel written all over his face. The wonderful gesture that Harry had made in handing the crown of love to the queen had nettled the king more than he had cared to admit, but something useful had come out of it: Tameas had understood that he would never keep the respect of a people too used to war if he were not feared as a warrior.
However, now that Isobel shared his bed and gave him so much delight, Tameas felt even less charitable towards Harry's loving looks. He would have to come to Lathia on the duke's business, now that he was part of his government. Would he always moon over the queen?
"Sir Harry sits in Benedikt's council now," he told Donnet as they watched the visitors. "I am sure he will be of great help."
Donnet looked at Tameas, wondering what on earth he was talking about, then at Harry.
"Why?" he asked, never having fully recovered from being thrown off his horse by Harry's lance. "I should think he will say a great deal of nonsense."
Tameas was still watching his rival, "Let us not be inhospitable. He is a fine man, Sir Harry.”
Donnet’s eyes slid sideways as he waited for his friend to complete his thought.
“His legs, though…” Tameas mused, staring. “Too much time on the back of a horse, going from war to war…”
The king held up a hand, and a page came running, "Tell the master of ceremonies that we would like quite an extravagant amount of dancing tonight."
"Oh, ho, ho, ho," Donnet laughed, shaking his head. "What a spiteful tyrant you are."
Tameas turned with an innocent face, glanced down at his friend's legs, said, "Hmm" and kept on walking.
"What?" Donnet asked, looking down. "I'm a good dancer! I have good legs!"
Agnetta, who had just joined him, nodded eagerly, "You have very good legs!"
"Well," Donnet said, shrugging sullenly. "I think so!"
Now Tameas and his father-in-law walked in the garden, looking at the view of Lathia below, and the meandering river beyond. Isobel had stayed behind with her brothers, who had so much to tell her about life at home.
"There have been skirmishes over land to the west, I hear?" Benedikt said
"They don't worry me half as much as the rumors of sudden friendship between certain lords," Tameas said.
Benedikt nodded, "Aye...anything like that is more cause for concern. Who are they?"
"Well, Bullyon, Bolbeck and DeGray in the east are quite cozy together suddenly. And, it seems, there have been some furry visitors from Etheld's tribe prancing about their lands."
"Would they dare open our land to th
at threat? To barbarian kings who would swallow us whole, and ransack us?"
"Have you ever known greed to be intelligent?"
Benedikt conceded the king's point with a nod. "What will you do?"
"For the moment, warn you to be ready. If something happens, it will be before winter comes. I have extended invitations to these friendly lords, so that they show their love for each other here at court. We will see their intentions, and prepare ourselves."
"I hope there is no rebellion," Benedikt said in a grim tone.
"Every wise person hopes the same," the king replied.
Isobel’s brothers had been taken away by Dorthe and she had been looking through the window at her father and husband, knowing what they were discussing. The thought of a rebellion made her very angry: she did not know how she would look at Bullyon, Bolbeck or DeGray when they arrived, except with daggers coming out of her eyes.
She was no good at diplomacy, though she knew Tameas was right, and that nothing could be done without proof for fear of alienating the rest of the lords, and making them think the king could be arbitrary and mercurial. He walked on a thin rope all the time, over a very big abyss.
Politics were a disagreeable game to Isobel, but a game she knew must be played.
"Your Grace?"
She heard his voice before she turned around. "Harry..." she said, smiling.
He gave her a smile too, a sad one. "You seem well."
"Yes, I am well. And you? On my father's council, I see, though you never liked to sit anywhere for long."
He shrugged. "I have lost war as my occupation, and it was a good loss when we consider how things have improved since then. But it's true that I still have to learn planning and diplomacy. I just want to cut every scoundrel's head off..."
Isobel's smile grew wider; they were still very alike.
"Are you happy now, Bell?" he asked softly.
Her heart contracted at hearing the nickname from him. She took a deep breath, which seemed to cut itself halfway and start again. "Yes, I have known some happiness," she said. "And I am busy."
She hoped Harry wouldn't ask her if she loved the king. He didn't. He just bowed to her, "That's all I desire for you."
He bowed again and moved away, and she wished that he wouldn't come anymore, that she never had to see him. Perhaps that way she would learn never to think of him.
MICHAELMAS
The separate arrival of Bullyon, Bolbeck and DeGray, as well as the other great lords of the kingdom, threw the capital into a flurry of activity.
The excuse for the invitation extended to them was the celebration of Michaelmas, for which the king had prepared a great feast, distributing bounty among the people in spite of some moaning from Sir Jochim.
Michaelmas not only marked the beginning of autumn, with its shorter and cooler days, but also the end of harvesting, and the time for bailiffs to hand in their accounts to their lords.
A time, Tameas thought, for the high displeasure of masters who had no notion how to administer their lands.
The king had decreed that there would be no meetings before the second day, and that there should be a banquet on the first night. Wives had accompanied their husbands, so music, dancing, and other pleasant and dainty activities fit for ladies were expected.
A splendid feast was laid out on the night of the 29th of September: the traditional goose, as well as game, sweet breads and delicious blackberry pies that marked the very end of summer.
The seating arrangements had caused much head scratching to Sir Paulus, as anyone not near enough to the king, or behind someone else, was bound to protest or sulk. In a new kingdom, where honors had only recently been distributed for many, it was a puzzle difficult to solve to everyone's liking.
Tameas had stopped drinking since the jousts and now rarely had any wine. He presided over the banquet with his cup full, but hardly touching it.
Isobel's eyes had not stopped going over the guests, as a hostess who might be watching to ensure that everyone was amused and well fed. However, that was not her intention in observing them. She saw, rather, how the lords interacted with each other, how Bullyon and Bolbeck exchanged too many glances, and managed to stand close together after dinner to talk.
When people were dancing and mingling again, Isobel's eyes followed a form she knew well: a slender, straight-backed figure with a proud head. It was snaking its way around the room until it reached DeGray.
It was a mistake to show affection or favor in public, as the queen ought to know, because there were always eyes wandering about, fixing on what was interesting, and her eyes now saw hands that touched and stayed in each other's for a brief moment.
Isobel looked at Tameas meaningfully. As they were surrounded by people and she did not want to whisper in his ear, she started writing initials on the velvet arm of his chair.
She wrote QE, and he nodded. Then she wrote DG.
His eyes rose and scanned the room and he was just in time to see Queen Elinor smile bewitchingly at Lord DeGray before they went their separate ways, as if they had never met on the floor.
The next day in the throne room, Tameas and his council heard each lord and his complaints separately, but he knew when he had to listen most closely.
DeGray walked in with the bow-legged stride of a man who had spent two thirds of his life on horseback. His body inclined to the right toward the hand and arm that had been wielding a sword for more than twenty years.
After some pleasantries, which DeGray could not deliver fast enough, he said, "Your Grace, I have sent you many a petition for a rightful claim: the lands of Norhill and Byhall, which ought to be mine."
"Why ought they?" Tameas asked calmly.
"Norhill belonged to my mother's family, Your Grace, as anyone knows, and Lord Jollan can attest. Byhall was mine by right of conquest, as I cleared the rebels away from it during the wars."
"As to Byhall," the king said, "many lords cleared rebels away from different lands that are now the crown's, since you, and they, were fighting in my father's army and were amply rewarded for it."
DeGray could not hide his scowl; Tameas remained impassive.
Lord Jollan continued smoothly. "As to your claim, my lord, that Norhill belonged to your mother's family, it did and does, for your cousin Lord Amaury holds it now. He is the direct descendant of the males in your mother's family and, as you know, that is the law."
"Amaury is a bastard, not his father's issue at all, and this is also known!" DeGray protested.
"A lot of men are being called bastards, now that the wars are over," Lord Jollan said. "The issue has been investigated at your request, and there is no proof to the claim that Lord Amaury is not his father's son."
"Everyone knows!" DeGray insisted in a louder voice.
"I wonder what sort of king I would be, if I ruled according to what everyone knows," Tameas said, silencing DeGray. "What we know is this, that even if Lord Amaury were not his father's issue, which you have not proven, the lands would belong to his uncle ─or is he a bastard too?"
"My lord," DeGray said with a scowl. "I take it much amiss..."
Tameas interrupted him, "You mistake, Lord DeGray. I am not your lord, I am your liege."
DeGray was clearly trying to master his temper. He breathed heavily as he said, "I ask you to reconsider, my liege. I ask for what is mine!"
"You have what is yours, Lord DeGray, and what we take amiss is that you should have so little care of your lands, and allow such license to your knights in it. Things of value are given to those who know how to prize them."
"Your Grace..."
"Enjoy Lathia," Tameas said, closing the audience. "And see what peace, which we hold dearer than anything, can do."
There was a contest between the firm eyes of the sovereign, and the pugnacious ones of the nobleman, but DeGray broke away first, bowed, and left the throne room.
After this encounter, and having witnessed an attachment which the Dowager Queen and DeGra
y had little bothered to hide during the feast, Tameas was sure of what he would find if he looked. He nevertheless ordered the queen's mail intercepted, and read proof of what he already knew: that she was planning to marry DeGray and take Agnetta with her, holding the princess as a beacon of rebellion against her brother.
He was swift in his decision after that, though it was with fear of his own fury that he sent for his stepmother and announced that he had other plans for her.
"Marriage?" Queen Elinor asked with contempt. "How am I to be married, Your Grace, when I have not finished mourning your father?"
Tameas had decided to be alone with Elinor, though it was generally wiser to have witnesses to affairs of state. But he meant to be very direct with her, and he wanted no one else to hear. For Agnetta's sake, he would give this treacherous queen a chance to not make a fatal mistake.
"Mourning my father has not prevented you from forming an affection for Lord DeGray," the king said.
Elinor's eyes were furious. "Who accuses me of such an affection?"
"Why would it be an accusation?" Tameas inquired softly.
She stopped short, realizing that she had been caught. "It's an accusation to say that I could wantonly love another man, when my husband..."
"Should we continue in this way, madam?" Tameas asked, interrupting her. "The courtesy that I owe you as my father's wife dictates that I should follow your lead, but I fear that you are going where I shall not be able to help you."
"I don't know what you mean..."
"You do," he said coldly. "And know also that I take it very seriously that there should be even thoughts against peace, and against the rightful succession in my kingdom."
"There is no rightful succession, until your beautiful young queen conceives!" Elinor cried with disdain.
"The queen's conception is not your business," Tameas said, and even Elinor backed away at his tone. "You will not harass my wife about an heir, as you harassed my mother ─though if you did, you would find a different metal there."