The Kingmaker Prophecy

by Gemma Perfect

  The three princes are like statues they are so perfect, and the Kingmaker is achingly beautiful while the Queen is so wonderful that Halfreda could die. She has never seen such sights or been in the presence of such wonder; she could cry. In fact, she is welling up and stuffs some cake in her mouth just to have something to do. She hears a giggle and is sure the Kingmaker is laughing at her. Well, she won’t laugh when Halfreda has a dagger to her throat.

  Halfreda gasps aloud at the awfulness of her thoughts and stands up, her cloak bunching around her feet, making her ungainly. “I am sorry. I don’t think I can do this. I can see that I’m not what you expected and I-”

  The King laughs, unexpectedly and loudly and his family follow suit. The sounds fills her ears and the rushing noise makes her feel, again, like she might faint.

  “My dear witch. You do not get to choose now. I am the King. I tell you what to do.”

  Halfreda stands still, scrunching her toes in her boots, rooting herself to the floor. She touches the chair, steadying herself. She raises her gaze to look at the King and she finds her thoughts muddling. She cannot tell if he speaks in jest, she cannot read the expression on his face. As a King he must need self-control and an ability to hide his true feelings; he is bamboozling her.

  She closes her eyes and asks for help.

  When she opens them, the King is still watching her, the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

  She nods and curtsies again. She sinks into her chair and takes a little bite of cheese. “As you wish. Absolutely.”

  There is silence as she finishes her plate of food and drinks her ale. She can feel the teacher’s eyes on her but refuses to look up. She can see the royal family move closer to their father, closing in on her and again she keeps her eyes on her food. She can sense a trap, but still refuses to look up.

  The King clears his throat and when Halfreda still refuses to look up he speaks to her. His voice is cold, and the atmosphere in the room has turned icy.

  “I have a right to question your appointment here. I am King of the Realm, and however much I trust your teacher’s opinion, I need to be happy and reassured.”

  He claps his hands and the royal family take their seats, the King with them. The doors are pushed open and a pleasant-faced man in servant’s livery escorts three men into the room.

  Halfreda watches the three men. The teacher moves next to the King, leaving Halfreda at her seat by the table, alone.

  This is some sort of test and from the gleeful look on the prince’s faces and the way the Kingmaker is smiling at her mother, Halfreda can tell that they all expect her to fail.

  For a second, she imagines leaving the room, pushing past the three men, and walking away from the castle.

  So far, the royal family, while beautiful to look at have been obnoxious and unfriendly to her. Who would want to live amongst these vipers?

  She turns her gaze to the teacher. What does he make of this, what should she do? He nods at her and smiles. She shakes her head, a fleeting feeling of anger with him crossing her mind. Did he know of this unwelcome welcome they would receive?

  She stands up and takes her place in front of the four men. One man obviously in the King’s employ and three scruffy looking specimens.

  “My good man, Jameson, has brought three men for you – two are prisoners and one is innocent. Tell me which is which – use your powers to give you the right answer and you will have earned your place here at court.”

  Halfreda glances at the King but doesn’t speak.

  She passes by Jameson, a friend as well as a servant she can tell. The three men are pretty smelly. One is cleaner than the others – clean fingernails, a more upright bearing. She knows this is to trick her. They want her to believe this man is innocent. She plays their game and walks back and fore in front of them, giving it all a lot of thought and then she turns to the King.

  “I didn’t need the time that I took. I could have told you as soon as they were brought in. And, just so you know, no man is every truly innocent – no woman either. We have all said or done, or thought, wicked things and anyone who says they have not is a liar.”

  She doesn’t wait for a response or a reply but turns back to the three men. She puts her hand on the chest of the first man, the one with clean nails and nicer clothes. “This man is guilty of murder. You can clean his nails and tell him to improve his posture, but guilty he is. What you do not know is that the extent of his crimes is far greater than what he has confessed to. There is no need to torture the truth out of him. He has killed seven men and three women – including his own wife. He is a sick man and the sooner you take his life, the sooner their spirits will rest.”

  The King and the royal family are open-mouthed listening to Halfreda, and she cannot help but smile.

  She places her hand on the chest of the second man. “This man is guilty as well. His crime a lesser one than your first man here. He is a thief, but he steals only to feed his children, King. His wife died when their youngest – the youngest of thirteen – was born and he has no way to feed them. He had a job and the older children were well equipped to look after the younger ones, when his employer told him he needed him no longer. He drank from the fury and the guilt he felt at letting down his dead wife. He got in an accident and now only one hand works. He cannot work a job now that will pay him what he needs to look after his family, and so he steals. You will punish him as he sees fit, but you must know, of what he steals he eats the least. He feeds thirteen first and takes only what is left. He cries each time he does it and has his oldest child write down everything he takes. His boys, now old enough to work, take the money they earn and pay it back to the people their father stole off and with each day of pay, as they hope to restore his good name. Knowing when to show lenience is the mark of any good ruler, and though I would not dare to tell you what to do, I will tell you that within the next full moon, all the people this man stole from will be paid back. The children could do with their father being home.”

  The thief smiles at her and takes her hands, crying as he thanks her. He does not know, nor does she, if her plea will work, but at least she has shown him, and the King, that she knows what she is talking about.

  She places her hand on the shoulder, this time, of the final man. “This man is innocent – he has been muddied up, but he is a good friend of yours, my King. You have known him since you were a boy and he is innocent of much. He likes to drink, and his eyes and hands occasionally wander from his wife to the wives of others but he is a good man.” She watches as he blushes beneath the grime, and she laughs when she sees the look of shock on the King’s face and the look of guilt on the Queen’s.

  “But I must add something.” She touches Jameson on his shoulder and he looks confused for a second before he lets a smile cover his lips.

  “King, you have tested me today and I understand why. I think your welcome of me has been poor. If you know and trust my teacher, then you must know his word is absolute. And so, I can only gather that this welcome of mine has been nothing more than sport for you and your family. I am proud to come here and serve my King, but I wish I could serve a King who is honourable and good, not one who laughs at a young girl who is frightened and out of her depth.” She raises a hand to stop him talking and is shocked by her courage. Or foolishness.

  “But I will tell you this one thing more before you send me away. This man – your servant and good friend, Jameson, is not innocent either. He also is a thief. He steals from your coffers. He takes the money you ask him to pass onto others as a token from you, and he steals kisses from your daughter – just weeks before she is to be sacrificed – and he still bows to you and loves being your favourite. He does not steal to help his family or to keep a child from death. He steals for his own benefit only. His mother – if you met her – wears the shabbiest rags you ever saw, but his drawers are filled with your gold. It is easy to be blind to the faults of those we love, as well as the faults that we possess. I
know my faults, King. I am headstrong and rude, stubborn and awkward, but I am also the most capable little witch you will ever have the good fortune to meet. I will stay and serve you, or happily leave you to sort out your own house. What will it be?”

  At that she plonks into her chair, takes a deep glug of ale and a bite of cake, before staring at the King, waiting for his answer.

  19

  Jameson makes a move to flee, but the thief and the murderer have their hands on him. At a shout from the King, the guard outside barrels in and has his sword to his throat, all in seconds.

  Halfreda calmly sips her drink, watching the servant beg his King for his life, his forgiveness. The King is stony. He turns to the thief. “You may take your freedom and thank this young girl for it.”

  The thief drops to his knees in front of Halfreda, tears streaming down his face. “Waste no time with me, go to your family. They are all well.”

  “Come to my stables in the morning, man,” the King calls to him as he leaves, “they will find you something to do to earn a wage.”

  The man thanks the King, and rushes away. The murderer is led away and the King follows the guard and Jameson from the room. “Take him to the dungeon.”

  The King’s childhood friend rubs the grot from his face. “You did well,” he says to Halfreda as he takes a drink. “Revealed a few of my secrets, but...”

  Halfreda shrugs as the King comes back into the room. She does not care any longer who she has upset or which feathers she might have ruffled. After the upset and stress of leaving the round house, leaving her friends who cared not a jot, and arriving to this rude King, she is done.

  The royal family huddle around their King. He looks ashen. He kneels in front of Halfreda. “I can only apologise to you. It was sport and yet you have played the game better than I imagined and called me out for my behaviour. I cannot quite believe what you have revealed to me and yet I know you speak the truth. Thank you. I would be honoured if you would stay. If you would take your place here and look after me, the way you just did. I would be honoured.”

  Halfreda smiles. “The honour is mine.”

  The teacher claps her back, relief evident on his face. “I will take Halfreda to her rooms. I gather she is in Marby’s rooms?”

  “Yes, outside.”

  The teacher bows to his King, and Halfreda follows him out of the room. He turns to face her and laughs. “I thought he would have your head for that! You did well. You did exactly what you needed to do. Well done. I was right – you will be the greatest wise woman we have ever had. The King is lucky.”

  “I thought I had gone too far as well – but he was rude.”

  “He was, but you have given his pause today. Let’s go.”

  Halfreda has very little of her things with her – the rest will be delivered in a day or so, but she has enough to see her though. “Marby had several rooms – a small suite outside of the castle, and work rooms within. Being outside of the castle serves two outcomes. It gives you separation from the royal family and gives them privacy from you, but it also allows you to focus on the perimeter of the castle, the grounds and the courtyard.”

  Halfreda nods as she follows him, her neck snapping back and fore as she takes in the sounds, smells and sights of the castle afresh. She has never seen so many people milling around, all intent on what they are doing, all sure of where they should be. The quiet calm of the round house will soon be a distant memory she can tell.

  Someone has unpacked their horses and put the stuff in Halfreda’s new rooms. She looks around, astounded by the size. “This is all for me?”

  They are in the main room, a sitting room, with a fire, a small table and two chairs, a settee and two more chairs. It looks warm and inviting, comfortable and homely. She explores, leaving the teacher to gather his things. He will sleep in the castle, in a visitor’s suite. He gets on well with the King and is looking forward to catching up properly.

  She has a bathroom of her own – something she has never had, something lots of people don’t have. In her family home they would bathe once a week in the sitting room, in front of the fire, sharing the water until it was so black the last one in – usually her – would end up dirtier coming out than going in. She usually washed in the lake instead. But here she had a room with a bath, somewhere to wash and go to the toilet in. She was laughing as she pushed through to the other room – her bedroom. A huge wooden bed, plush with curtained canopies. She throws herself down on the blankets and cannot believe how soft they are. In exchange for her magic she will live in sumptuous comfort until she dies.

  “Halfreda?”

  She clambers off the bed and joins the teacher back in the main room. “Yes?”

  “Happy?”

  The look on her face says it is so, but she laughs as she tells him that yes, she is very happy. She looks nervous. “Do you think the King will forgive me?”

  The teacher nods. “The King – any King – is a powerful and arrogant man. He has the whole Realm bowing down to him. He has the power and money, and the prestige. If he is walking through town and decides he doesn’t like the look of a man, he can have him killed. Or if he likes the look of a woman, he can have her brought to his bed. No explanations, no questions asked. He is never wrong. Now imagine having to guide him and guard him and tell him he’s wrong. Don’t let the plush surroundings fool you, Halfreda. You will sleep in a comfortable bed every night but you will earn every bit of comfort, every hot meal, you will work for it all.”

  Halfreda makes a face and the teacher laughs. “It will be worth it, I promise. For now, I imagine you need sleep?”

  “Maybe a bath, first?”

  “You may have anything you desire, but just remember, none of it comes free. You are well placed in the courtyard to be able to call for a little maid any time you want. You don’t warrant a handmaiden of your own, or a designated maid, but the little maids – the littlest and lowest in the pecking order – will do anything you bid. Be polite. Don’t be demanding.”

  He opens the door and beckons the first little maid he sees. She bobs him a curtsey and nods when he asks her for hot water to fill a bath for the newest wise woman.

  Halfreda sits looking at her fire. “I feel like I am a long way from home.”

  “You are. You have come a long way both in place and manner. You are no longer an angry little witch, ready to hurt herself because she hates herself and her powers so much. You do have a long way to go however. This is the start of a new journey, and you have everything inside yourself to make it wondrous. I truly believe it.”

  There is a knock at the door, and Halfreda can only watch in grateful amusement as a troop of little maids file in to her rooms with jugs of steaming hot water, fragrant petals and hot oils. Another has a pitcher of ale and goblet which she lays on the table. Yet another brings ale and cakes and takes them through to her bedside. “In case you are hungry or thirsty through the night. Although Cook says, if you need anything else you must always feel free to visit her in the kitchen or holler.”

  Halfreda nods her acquiescence; she cannot speak. She is only the wise woman of the castle, brand new and unproven in her position and yet she is being treated like a queen. She cannot imagine being treated any better.

  The teacher kisses her forehead and bids her good night, the last little maid closes the door behind her and Halfreda realises she is crying.

  She runs her fingers along the table, the back of a plump, velvet chair, a tapestry on the wall. She goes into her bathroom and stops. Her bath looks like the most inviting thing she has ever seen. It is a long time since she sat in a bath – they all washed in the river while she stayed at the round house – but she has never sat in a warm room, in front of a fire, in a clean, hot bath, by herself. She quickly strips off and sinks into the water. It is almost too hot and yet she relishes the feel of it – the feel of the sweat of her journey washing away, the stench of unwashed hair, unclean clothes, and as she washes her hair she feels li
ke she’s in a dream. How could she have been so lucky to land here?

  And yet, as the teacher warned, it doesn’t come for free. He mentioned the food, the warmth, the wonderful surroundings as payment, but she knows the cost will be the murders she carries out when she sacrifices each and very Kingmaker.

  How many innocent throats will she slit? How many sweet young girls who should have their lives ahead of them will die at her hand? Even one is too many. She closes her eyes and dunks her head under the water. She cannot dwell on it now.

  Clean and red skinned from the heat of the water, she climbs out of the bath and finds a drying cloak on the back of the door. Back in the main room, the fire is burning brighter and there is a package on the table. New clothes. Black slips, dresses and boots, and new nightclothes. She will be a sombre wise woman indeed, not that she cares. How she looks has never been a concern for her. She puts on her clean nightclothes and sits in front of the fire.

  It’s a strange feeling that comes over her. There is no one else with her. No one to chat to or giggle with, but also no one to tell her to go to bed, or fetch ingredients from the woods. She has no idea how her role will develop but for now she is free.

  Sleep or eat? The choice is hers and she is laughing aloud when she lays in her new bed – warm from a hot brick wrapped up under the blankets – and eats cake.

  20

  Halfreda wakes up in her new bed in her new home, and the feeling of peace and contentment that fills her is the best feeling she has ever had. She is home and she feels at peace.

  Dressed in her soon to be regulation black dress, boots and cloak, she heads out into the courtyard. Again, she is astounded by how many people there are. Men carrying game over their shoulders, taking it to the kitchen. Another man with a pungent bucket full of fish, ready to be salted and hung out to dry. There are little maids, handmaidens, stable boys – she has never seen so many servants and yet with a castle this size they need all the help they can afford.