Pawns and Queens--A 15th Century Gwynedd Story--Chapter Eleven

[Evie]

Previous chapter: https://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php/topic,3216.0.html


Chapter Eleven

Rhemuth Castle
February 11, 1464
Morning

Some sense of normalcy was beginning to return to the Castle with the departure of their royal guests. Prince Alarikos left first, a day before the other two royal guests, though not before securing a betrothal contract to wed with the Princess Elisa in a year's time. The same Nördmarcke army that threatened to invade Gwynedd was also a threat to Beldouria, and in the event that Torval should decide to launch an attack on its southern neighbor at the same time as it attacked its western one (though that seemed unlikely), Alarikos did not wish to move his young bride-to-be any closer to their mutual enemy. Beldour was directly downriver of Nördmarcke, after all, and even more vulnerable to an invasion than Rhemuth, for the Beldour and Brust Rivers formed the boundary between those two kingdoms. So it was decided that the additional year in Rhemuth would allow Elisa more time to prepare for her upcoming nuptials and improve her understanding of the Torenthi language and culture, and hopefully by the following summer the hostilities with Nördmarcke would have ended, making it safer for Prince Alarikos to return for his bride and escort her home.

The princess herself was understandably disappointed by this arrangement, for she felt herself quite ready to embark on the great adventure of returning to Beldour with Alarikos right away, but after hearing both her affianced husband and her brother the King explain their reasoning for keeping her in Rhemuth an extra year, she agreed it would be nice to have more time to prepare her wedding trousseau and gain a bit more practice in speaking the language of her future husband's people. To make the parting somewhat easier for the young couple, King Cinhil agreed to provide Alarikos with the signature of a strongly guarded and warded portal just a short distance outside the city walls, which had been created half a century earlier for the specific use of diplomatic couriers and the like, along with the letter of safe conduct with the King's seal to ensure that those guarding the portal would recognize Alarikos as having official permission to enter and leave the Kingdom by that means. That would allow him to make regular visits to check in with his young bride and continue getting to know her better.

A similar arrangement was made for Prince Philippe and Princess Richeldis, although as Bremagne was unlikely to become directly involved in the upcoming hostilities with Nördmarcke, the Prince planned to return for his bride as soon as the weather improved enough to allow for a smoother sea passage for his intended and any belongings she selected to bring with her. The betrothal contract agreed upon, the Prince and his entourage continued on their journey to Llannedd with King Dafydd, where they would remain until March, when Philippe and his men would return home to Bremagne to make ready for his bride's arrival a few weeks later.

As for the King of the United Kingdoms, he agreed to send at once to the Connait, as well as to various private armies in Howicce and Llannedd, to supply additional foot soldiers and archers willing to take up arms against Nördmarcke in exchange for King Cinhil's generous offer of coin. After all, King Torval as a near neighbor was a complication Dafydd would prefer not to deal with.

#

February 11, 1464
Rhemuth Castle
The King's Map Room

Gwynedd's King, still enjoying his new-found freedom from his bedchamber, took advantage of his wheeled chair to hold a meeting of his war council in the Rhemuth Castle map room where he and his generals and other military advisors could take a closer look at the part of the kingdom under direct threat by Torval of Nördmarcke. Of course it would be Nicholas leading his armies at the front, and Cinhil well knew that any plans they made ahead of time would have to change and adapt to the actual situation on the ground once Gwynedd's forces met up with Nördmarcke's, but they still needed to be ready to counter any of a number of potential invasion plans Torval might dream up to launch against their defenses. The logistics of sending additional supplies to the front under constantly changing battle conditions had to be considered also.

Duke Joscelin bent over one map along with Nicholas as they quietly discussed with the King's generals the various possible routes Torval might use to bring his armies through the mountainous region separating his kingdom from Marley, Eastmarch, and Kheldour. One possible route could lead through the Rheljans, though that seemed far less likely than the more northerly route near Culliecairn or through the river valley of the Arran. There was even a chance he might approach from the Marley coast or even the Kheldish Riding, though that seemed less likely, as Cinhil's intelligencers had discovered that much of the Nördmarcke fleet had been destroyed in their port at Netterhaven during a severe winter storm just a couple of years earlier, and their ships berthed near Tolan had suffered similar though lesser damage, and their shipwrights had yet to finish those repairs and replace more than a few of those lost vessels. So an invasion over land seemed more likely, unless perhaps Torval had contracted with his neighbor to the north to supply additional ships, but if he had, no signs had been seen of such activity. If anything, the Eistenmarckers had been less relentless in their coastal raids of late, though Cinhil was aware of at least one or two brief raids of coastal villages in north Kheldour in the past year which were clear evidence that they had not stopped harrying Gwynedd's coastline altogether. The increase in sea patrols his father had ordered the previous summer had helped to reduce the number of such raids, at least, and they carried letters of marque and reprisal allowing them to take retaliatory measures against those seafaring folk who threatened the peace and safety of Gwyneddan subjects.

At another map table, the Dukes of Cassan and Claibourne discussed supply chains from their more westward-lying lands to the eastern front, and also considered how best to utilize the Llyrian ships and men arriving towards the end of March. A similar discussion drew Duke Joscelin's attention away from his conversation with Prince Nicholas as he turned to attend what the Earl of Derry was saying about the supply chains coming up from the South and into Coroth Bay.

Through it all, Prince Camber and Princess Catalina listened and watched intently, occasionally offering up some observation or insight of their own, but for the most part simply taking in the plans unfolding before before them, explaining some of the more subtle details to Cinhil's Queen, whose upbringing left her far less prepared to comprehend the discussions taking place around her, although she very much wished to learn. He smiled to himself as he saw his younger brother offer his Queen a well worn copy of De Re Militari for additional study in her spare time. It was highly unlikely Alixa would ever have cause to need it, safely ensconced here in Rhemuth, but if it would keep her mind occupied and less anxious about the war ahead, Cinhil was grateful Cam had provided her with the distraction.

The youngest Haldane prince would primarily be held behind in Rhemuth in order to ensure smooth lines of communications with the capital would be ongoing even in the event Cinhil's ailing heart would finally fail him in the middle of the upcoming campaign. He would still likely be sent to the front every now and then, serving as Cinhil's herald and courier, and bringing back news requiring a response from him. Cam chafed a bit at the decision, though understanding the necessity of keeping at least one Haldane heir mostly out of harm's way, did not push back too strongly against his King's decision other than making his opinion of it privately known to Cinhil and Colin in forceful language that might have gotten him censured by their mother had she overheard. He channeled some of his frustration by coming up with the occasional use of resources Cinhil had not previously considered, such as asking Princess Catalina if her weapons master from the Anvil might be willing to assist with getting the younger squires' fighting skills up to speed and with continuing the pages' training once the majority of the Castle's men were off to war. Her Llyrian scribe also turned out to have some sort of connection with the Royal House of Llyr, which might prove handy if some need to communicate quickly with their distant ally across the sea should happen to arise.

King Cinhil well understood Camber's frustration. It was not easy for him either, sending their brother Colin off to lead armies he ought to have been leading instead, though that would take a far abler body than Cinhil had enjoyed in years. He would have preferred some glorious end in battle over this prolonged wasting away of his young life in his own bedchamber. But at least he still had his mind and his strong will. It would have to serve.

#

February 12, 1464
The King's chambers
Mid-Morning

Catalina entered the King's apartment to be greeted by the sounds of copious feminine giggling. She shot a startled glance at his body squire, who simply grinned as he waved the visiting princess towards the half-opened door to Cinhil's inner chamber. "He's having a good morning and keeping the Queen entertained with stories about his younger years," the squire whispered. "You can go in; they're expecting you."

The princess stepped forward, though she stopped short in the doorway as she caught sight of the young couple within, surmising that perhaps they weren't expecting her yet quite so early, since they still lay half-reclined on the bed although modestly enough dressed for indoors, Cinhil's arm around his laughing wife who gazed adoringly up at him. She started to back out and wait to be announced, but the movement caught the King's eye, and he smiled, merely sitting up a bit straighter with a slight squeeze of his wife's shoulders and a tilt of his head to indicate Catalina's presence. "Come in," he told her. "I was just telling Alixa of your husband's misspent youth."

Alixa laughed. "And yours!" she corrected, also sitting up straighter and offering a fauldstool to her sister-by-marriage.

"Should I be intrigued, or would it be in my best interests to escape now?" Catalina joked as she accepted the seat that was offered.

"I was just telling Alixa what horrible older brothers we were to poor Camber," Cinhil told her. "Now, let's see...where were we?"

"Miranda and the kirtle," Alixa prompted.

"Ah, yes.  First, let me back up just a bit so we don't completely lose poor Catalina. This would have happened about, what, maybe eleven years ago? I would have been around seventeen, which would make Colin around fifteen, and Camber probably just turned twelve. And poor Camber had just discovered girls."

"Oh dear. Now I'm really afraid to know," Catalina said with a grin.

"Yes, I'm afraid this story could alter your perception of your husband and Camber forever," Cinhil said, pure mischief sparkling in his eyes. "Now, back in those days, there was a rumor going around among the squires that some of the maidservants had some sort of bet going on as to which ones could manage to get herself kissed by a Prince."

"Do I really want to hear this story, Cinhil?" his wife teased.

"No worries, love. Being forewarned of this bet, we mostly managed to avoid them."

"Um hm. It's that 'mostly' that's concerning."

"Anyway, moving right along," Cinhil continued, neither confirming nor denying Alixa's suspicions. "Camber had also heard about this bet, and he quite fancied the idea, at least if he could manage to get cornered by one of the prettier maidens. So that's what gave Colin and Miranda the idea for their cunning plan." He looked over at Catalina. "You see, before Colin reached his full growth, when he was still a skinny little youth, if you dressed him up just right and arranged his hair just so–which Miranda did–and placed him in a dark enough storeroom with just a little bit of light shining through the vent, he was downright pretty."

Catalina, seeing where this story was headed, began to laugh. "No, you did not!"

"Well, no, I didn't, I just aided and abetted. So it was my job to get Cam into place to spring the trap. I came up with a story about one of the kitchen maids who had confessed a raging tendresse for him, and who was lurking in one of the storerooms in hopes of a private meeting with him. Reminded him of the bet, said the rumor sounded fairly likely to me, and in any case, it wouldn't hurt for him to check it out just on the off chance. So in wanders Camber all hopeful, but doing his best to look nonchalant as he enters the storeroom pretending to look for something on the shelves, when who does he chance to see but yon 'fair maiden'?"

Alixa giggled again. "Tell me he didn't fall for the disguise!"

"Well, I'm not sure he stuck around long enough to be convinced or not. He got cold feet and went flying out of the room, Colin leaping up from his stool and running after him, skirts flying, until he caught up with and tackled poor Camber, who was still under the impression he was being thrown to the ground by a kitchen maid intending to have her wicked way with him, and he was too confused to know whether he was terrified or elated by the prospect."

Catalina, imagining the ridiculous scene, lost any attempt to keep a straight face.

"This naturally alarmed Miranda, who had no idea how she was going to explain a ripped gown to Maman. So she came running out also, more to save her borrowed clothing than Camber's dubious innocence."

"I begin to see why Camber escaped into the priesthood, with you lot as siblings. Clearly all of you were in great need of making your confessions," joked Catalina, setting off Alixa once more.

"You have no idea," Cinhil said feelingly. "It's a wonder any of us managed to survive our parents' wrath."

#

February 12, 1464
The Practice Yard
Rhemuth Castle
Mid-Morning

Prince Nicholas watched, lost in thought, as his wife's Anviller weapons master engaged in a bladed weapons practice in Rhemuth's practice yard. He admired the smooth motions of the man's technique, not to mention his patience with the pages and squires who were drawn to watch his daily practice and to whom he was always willing to offer some additional pointers once it was their turn to practice their weapon skills, but on that particular morning, he only had half an eye on Salim's skills, for his thoughts were more focused on another matter entirely.

The prince brushed his hand across his belt pouch yet again, sensing the magical item curled up inside it. Catalina's offer still baffled him, even as much as it gave him reason for hope. Why would she have given him something so valuable and obviously filled with personal meaning for her, for him to give it to a woman she had every reason to resent? It made little sense to him, and yet he was profoundly grateful.

Lost in his musings, he didn't notice Salim had finished his routine until the man approached his side of the practice field, making a respectful bow as Nicholas finally registered his presence. "Good morning, Lord Salim," he greeted his lady's retainer. "I was wondering if you could spare a few minutes to talk, perhaps as we walk back towards King's Tower together?"

"Of course, Your Highness," said the weapon master. "As you wish." He fell into step beside Nicholas as the two headed back across the lower bailey towards the residential block of the castle.

"I have been pondering some sort of gift for the Princess," Nicholas said, contemplating the idea with a slight frown, "but I haven't really got a good sense yet for the sort of present she might enjoy, and I was hoping maybe you could give me some ideas."

"Ah." Salim considered the matter. "Is it for any specific occasion?"

Nicholas shook his head. "No, just...a gesture of appreciation, I suppose."

"I see." The Anviller smiled. "In that case, my lord, I think what the Sultana would most appreciate is the gift of your time."

Nicholas glanced over at him, startled. "Just...time?  What do you mean?"

Salim's smile grew wider. "Life for a leader of men is very busy, is it not? And there are always more things to do than there are hours in the day to do them in. So every day, choices must be made–which things must take a higher priority, which things can wait a little longer, which things can more easily be passed over to make room for other things which are more important. You understand that much, yes?"

Nicholas chuckled. "Oh yes, that's pretty much the story of my life these days."

"As I thought," said Salim. "Now a wife–especially a new one you are still getting to know–demands a certain amount of time. It is easy enough to think, 'Oh, there will be time enough to get to know her more later, once things settle down a little bit.' And for some women, perhaps a little bit of time with her every now and again would be sufficient, as long as she has a few words of affection here or some small trinket of appreciation there. But you have married Catalina of Andelon, and I can tell you this, she is not such a woman. If you would have her understand that you truly appreciate her, the best way to do so is to spend more time with her, as much as you are able to carve out for that specific purpose. And in doing so, that will also serve the purpose of helping you to know and understand her better, as it will also help her to better know and understand you."

Salim glanced over at Nicholas. "Now, I can almost hear you thinking, 'But we are both very busy people!' And it is true that the two of you, being who you are, might find it more difficult to find those moments of special time for one another, but that doesn't make the need any less important, at least for her, for she is the sort of person who finds it easier to care for and bond with someone who is more willing to make space for her in their life."

"I suppose that makes sense, though I already do make time for her," Nicholas said. "We've spent nearly every night together since–" He broke off as Salim began to chuckle.

"That is also quality time of a sort, and certainly necessary, although not exactly what I meant," the weapon master informed him. "Outside of that, how much time have the two of you been able to spend just getting to know one another? As individuals, each with your own likes, dislikes, and special needs, I mean, not just as a husband with a new bride trying to get an heir?"

"Oh." Nicholas smiled a bit sheepishly. "I suppose you're right, I haven't made as much time for that sort of thing. There's just been so much on my plate recently."

"Of course. You are a Prince. There will always be a great deal on your plate, and someday if you should become King, there will be even more. But there will always be one thing your consort will need from you, if you wish to show her you truly care for her happiness, and that greatest gift you can give her is your presence and your interest in her. Your willingness to actually share in her life and share your life with her, not merely co-exist in the same space. Try to find moments in your day, even if they must necessarily be brief ones for now, when you can deliberately make some time to just enjoy a few minutes every day getting to know one another better. Those will be the moments when you learn what makes her smile, what makes her laugh, what brings her joy. And she will also have the opportunity to learn the same about you."

"You make it sound easy, though I suspect it will be much less easy than it sounds," said Nicholas.

"That is quite likely," said Salim, "though hopefully you will find the Sultana worth the extra effort."

They reached the entrance to the King's Tower. "Thank you, Lord Salim, you've given me something to think about."

"At your service, my lord," said the Princess's retainer with a respectful bow.

#

February 12, 1464
The Formal Gardens
Rhemuth Castle
Late morning

Catalina was lost in thought as she left the King and Queen's company, her pouch stuffed with the pattern diagrams, measurements, and sewing instructions for a Gwyneddan-style tunic that she had originally arranged to meet with Queen Alixa to obtain. She had nearly forgotten the purpose for her visit as she'd been caught up in Cinhil's stories and their shared merriment.

When she had first come to Gwynedd, she had felt a strong sense of pity for Cinhil's young Queen, raised in Joux's hostile court and only allowed the most rudimentary of educations, only to be shipped off to a strange land, wed to a complete stranger not of her own choosing when she'd barely reached the threshold of young womanhood, with the sole expectation of bearing heirs for a foreign court, a burden placed upon her frail shoulders which she had yet to achieve. It seemed, on the face of things, to be a sad life, and yet despite every obstacle life had thrown at her and how anxious and insecure she still felt in fulfilling her duties as Cinhil's Queen, Alixa was cheerfully, joyfully, almost deliriously happy and secure in her husband's love for her.

Catalina did not in any way begrudge Alixa her happiness, but she felt a mild twinge of envy nonetheless. How long had it taken for her and Cinhil to warm up to each other, to become accustomed to one another's ways? To have mere acquaintance deepen into true friendship and then deeper love? For it was clear to her that Cinhil and Alixa shared a true marriage of the heart now, no matter how their relationship had started out in its earliest days.

She found herself wondering if there was any chance her relationship with Colin would ever look the same. On one level, she realized she needed to be more patient–it was still very early days yet, and she had known her husband for only a month, most of that spent under challenging circumstances which made it more difficult for them to have opportunities to get to know one another better. She felt like she barely even knew her husband at all, even after the weeks she had spent with him. She liked him well enough, even though she sometimes found him maddening, and she also found him very attractive, but there was still some invisible barrier between them.

She had assumed at first that barrier was his love for Melisande. And certainly that was an obstacle, and far from an insignificant one, but now Catalina began to wonder if there was something more standing between them.

Catalina was pulled from her inner musings by the sound of girlish laughter coming from the other end of the gardens. Looking towards the staircase leading up from the lower bailey, she spotted the familiar presence of the golden-haired Duke of Corwyn accompanied by four younger ladies, one of them being his sister Lady Gabrielle. The other three were even more familiar to Catalina, being three of her Andelonian ladies-in-waiting.

Duke Joscelin, spotting her at nearly the same time she had noticed their presence, gave her a sunny grin and changed direction to head her way. Drawing closer, he bowed to Catalina. "Your Highness," he said, "My sister has asked if I might escort her and her new friends, your ladies, into Rhemuth so they can visit a draper's shop where some of the finest fabrics in the Kingdom might be obtained. I told her we would need to check with you first to make sure you have no objection to me absconding with three beautiful Andelonian maidens for the afternoon."

A peal of giggles behind him made Catalina suspect that the fabric selections to be found in Rhemuth were perhaps of less interest to said maidens than the attentions of the handsome Duke before her, but as he was accompanied by his sister and requesting permission to bring more than one of her ladies into the City, she supposed the request was safe enough to grant. For additional safety in numbers, she could send Amina with them, but she had no wish to spoil their outing, for Amina's mood had not improved over the past few days.

"What time did you intend to bring them back?" she asked.

"At any time you should require them, though I had thought to be back by the late afternoon anyway, as I am due to meet with King Cinhil before the dinner hour."

"That would be fine, then," Catalina confirmed. "And have you sufficient coin to purchase the fabrics, should you find any that meet your needs?" she asked her ladies.

Rosalita and Felipa exchanged sheepish glances, and Catalina stifled a laugh. As she suspected, neither lady had originally planned on a shopping trip before encountering the extremely eligible bachelor duke. However, Leonor reached into her pouch and pulled out a handful of coins. "Don Riordan said this should be sufficient allowance to provide for a few new gowns, but I am thinking perhaps an additional mark or two would help ensure better quality fabric, especially if the prices in the Rhemuth marketplace are higher than the prices in Rhanamé," Leonor observed. "Can our coffers spare just a little more, Su Alteza?"

"I believe Don Riordan is trying to keep our expenses lower during wartime," Catalina said.

"Oh, I agree we must economize," Leonor agreed with a guileless smile, "and yet the poor merchants of Rhemuth will be going through hard times too, and will need to make economies of their own. Even half a mark of profit for them would help."

Catalina stole a look at Duke Joscelin, who appeared hard pressed not to laugh at this argument. She shook her head, reaching into her belt pouch for the additional coin. "For the poor starving draper selling the best fabrics in Rhemuth," she stated drily as she pressed it into Leonor's hand. "And I will expect my change back if there is any left."

"Thank you, Su Alteza!"

"I wish you the very best of luck at dragging them out of the fabric shop when you wish to return, Duke Joscelin," Catalina said.

The duke smiled. "I find the promise of a return trip in future helps to make a lady more amenable to leaving on time. At least it seems to work for my sister. I suppose I shall find out soon if the strategy works equally well for Lady Rosalie, Lady Philippa, and Lady Eleanor."

It took a moment for Catalina to recognize the names. Her younger ladies had acclimated to their new Gwyneddan life far more quickly than her camarera.

"I imagine the promise of a return trip with you would make them quite amenable indeed," she agreed, the sight of three wistful faces turned hopefully towards the duke nearly making her burst into laughter. Perhaps it might be best to send for Amina after all, for the poor man's protection.

#

February 12, 1464
The King's Tower
Rhemuth Castle
Early afternoon

Nicholas stole away at the earliest opportunity from a trying meeting with his mother, making a quick detour to the castle kitchens to procure foodstuffs for a midday meal in the privacy of his own quarters. To his surprise, he found his young bride seated at Lord Riordan's writing desk when he returned to the apartment, her amanuensis nowhere in sight. Catalina was poring over a small assortment of scattered notes as he walked in. She appeared to be measuring something invisible in the air with a length of string with a slight frown of concentration. It was a baffling yet somewhat endearing sight, and he stood in the doorway watching her, trying to figure out what she was up to, until she noticed his presence.

"Is that some sort of Andelonian magic?" he joked as she looked up at him, nodding towards the string she held.

She laughed. "No, I was trying to measure you for a new tunic, but without you actually present, that was rather difficult to do by memory."

"Oh! Well, I'm here now, though I need to put this down first," Nicholas said, lifting the small parcel of wrapped food that he held. "Have you eaten yet?"

"No...What time is it?" Catalina cast a quick glance out the window behind her, trying to determine the hour by a quick glance at the sky.

"If you are looking for the sun in Gwynedd in mid-February, best of luck on that," Nicholas joked as Catalina made room on the desk for his lunch assortment.

"I've been to visit the Queen, and she showed me how to make a tunic according to the current style here in Rhemuth, so I thought I would try my hand at it," Catalina said. "What is your favorite color, besides Haldane crimson?"

It took a moment for Nicholas to make the mental adjustment. Having just returned from seeing his mother, he realized Soraya was not the queen his wife was referring to, so she must mean she had just returned from a visit with Alixa. "Blue," he replied, taking a seat beside her in the window embrasure and handing her the less crushed fish pie in his parcel. "What is yours?"

She took a bite from the flaky pastry. "That depends on the day."

He chuckled. "That's not helpful."

Catalina laughed. "I'm partial to sea green, like that pretty gown your sister Miranda was wearing on our wedding day. But I also quite like blue, especially a deep blue. Or also emerald."

Nicholas had no idea what Miranda had worn on their wedding day–that day had become mostly a blur in his mind–though he thought he knew the shade of green Catalina meant nonetheless, since as the Hort of Orsal's Queen it figured fairly prominently in Miranda's wardrobe.

"What shade of blue do you like best?" Catalina asked.

'The color of Melisande's eyes' was certainly not a safe answer to give, Nicholas reflected, so instead he glanced out the window, finally spotting a clear patch of bright blue sky that wasn't obscured by cloud cover.  "About that color," he replied.

"All right," she told him, "I will see what I can find. But I will need your measure first, and not just my best guesses as to your size."

He popped the last piece of his pie into his mouth and stood, holding out his arms so she could measure them as well as his shoulder width and torso length against the string she held, occasionally marking its length with various cryptic ink dots and knots that might as well have been some form of complicated spellwork as far as he was able to tell. At last the job seemed to be done, and Catalina wrapped the string around her fingers with a satisfied smile before standing on tiptoe to give him a quick kiss.

He lightly wrapped his arms around her waist. "Is that part of the fitting too? If so, I think I like that part the best."

She laughed. "Let me put this away before I lose it," she told him, slipping the loop of string off her hand and folding it into one of the scraps of paper with the pattern directions written upon it.

"Would you like to go out riding with me tomorrow?" he found himself asking Catalina, much to his surprise since until that moment he hadn't even considered the idea of venturing out beyond the castle walls. "I have a pretty full morning and a meeting later in the evening, but I think I've got an hour or two free in the middle of the day, if you'd like to get out and see a little bit of the countryside with me. We could take the new horses."

Catalina beamed up at him. "I would like that very much! Thank you."

#

February 13, 1464
The King's Study
Rhemuth Castle
Late morning

The proposed outing had ended up not happening as originally planned after all, for earlier that morning King Cinhil had awakened in the pre-dawn hours struggling to breathe.

Queen Alixa had awakened first, calling out in alarm for Cinhil's squire on duty that morning to run and fetch the Royal physicians. It had taken the efforts of two master physicians and a Healer to stabilize the King's condition, and at dawn Nicholas had been called in, for at first the physicians feared the worst and decided Cinhil's heir needed to be notified of his precipitously failing health, but at long last their efforts began to make a difference in the young King's condition, and his breathing became less labored, allowing him to finally swallow down a dose of his medication and affording him more time for the foxglove tincture to do its work. Spent from his efforts to breathe properly over the past couple of hours, the King fell back into a deep sleep, and it was decided that he was out of danger for the moment and there was little need to awaken the other family members at that point.

No longer needed by the King's bedside once the immediate danger had passed, Nicholas had thrown himself into work to alleviate his anxieties over his brother's condition, taking charge of the two meetings that Cinhil had originally scheduled for that day in addition to reshuffling his own schedule to fit his original plans into the hastily revised agenda for that morning. During a brief lull, he remembered the invitation he had given his wife the day before, and had one of the castle pages deliver a quickly scrawled note to her explaining his need to cancel those plans and why.

As he read over a dispatch for the third time, trying to make sense of the words which were written perfectly legibly on the page, the door opened and Catalina walked in, bearing a tray of food.

"I'm not hungry," Nicholas muttered, attempting to read the dispatch yet again.

"I figured you might not be, but you need to eat anyway, to keep up your strength," his wife told him, moving the stack of documents before him to one side without disturbing their order so she could set the tray before him. He stared resentfully at the food before glancing over at her. Catalina settled into a nearby chair, and sensing she was going nowhere unless he did as he was bidden, he took a few mouthfuls of the stew. They were flavorless to him at first, but the more he ate, the more he realized he was actually hungry, and she was quite likely right, he would need his full energy to cope with the rest of the day's demands.

He finished the bowl, handing it back to her as he started to reach for the stack of documents. She stopped him by putting her hand on top of the pile of papers. "When is your next meeting?" she asked.

"In a couple of hours, I think. Why?"

"Good. Then you can take an hour to clear your head." She reached for his hand.

"Catalina...." He stared at her in confusion. Surely she had received his message earlier that morning? "I haven't got time right now."

"Colin, you can't afford not to take the time right now," she told him. "What are you feeling at this moment, besides being annoyed with me for interrupting your work?"

He sighed impatiently. "I haven't a clue."

"Right. And how many more of these dispatches do you think you can manage to work through this morning before you feel the need to scream and throw things?"

A corner of his lip twitched. "I reached that point at least three dispatches ago."

"So let's take a break and come back to it with a fresher mind in an hour."

He sighed. "All right. What did you have in mind?"

Catalina smiled encouragingly. "A good gallop. Just try not to kill your new horse."

#

Rhemuth Castle
The Top of Queen's Tower
Late Morning
February 13, 1464

Camber had spent the morning at the Cathedral in a meeting with the Archbishop of Rhemuth, a circumstance he usually looked forward to with the same anticipatory eagerness that his brother Nicholas showed when forced into close proximity of lengthy duration with their mother. The long and tedious meeting finally over, Camber needed a few minutes alone to restore his normally ebullient mood.

At the earliest opportunity, he escaped to the topmost height of the Queen's Tower, overlooking the Molling River, hoping for a few minutes of peace, quiet, and solitude.

What he found was a woman sitting on the hard stone floor of the crenellated tower in floods of tears. It took him only the briefest of moments to realize it was the Queen.

"Alixa?" She was seated leaning against the wall just a couple of feet to the left of the door he had just emerged from. He lowered himself onto the floor beside her, feeling helpless. "What's wrong, sweeting?"

"Everything!" she sobbed, which was not very helpful for a man who needed to know something, anything he could do to relieve her distress. He gingerly reached an arm around her shoulders, patting her awkwardly as she leaned into him, attempting to control the flood of emotions. After a few minutes of this torment, she managed to get her tears under control, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. She gave a few final sniffles.

"Are you all right now?" he asked carefully, not wishing to inadvertently set her off again.

She gave a few final sniffles. "I suppose. I just...needed a moment."

Camber nodded. "I know it's been a very busy past couple of weeks for you. For all of us."

She looked up at him, her dark blue-gray eyes mournful in her pale face. "Cinhil had another big setback this morning, and it took him over an hour to start breathing normally again. The foxglove tincture is starting to lose its effectiveness, I think."

Oh. Camber sighed, giving Alixa's slim shoulders a sympathetic squeeze. His brother had been slowly dying for years, but this latest revelation sounded more alarming than most. Camber was not ready for his eldest brother to actually die. He would never be ready for that loss. And yet he knew it would come all too soon anyway.

"I'm sorry," he said, knowing it wasn't enough. Knowing that nothing would be enough to soothe Alixa's pain.

Fresh tears filled her eyes as she stared straight ahead. "I don't want to go back to Joux."

"What?" Camber stared at her blankly. "Then...don't?"

She played at the laces on one of her cuffs. "I shall have to, I think. Father will want me back. Why, I have no idea, but he does," she told him, her voice dull. "I think he means to marry me off again."

"Alixa...." He stared at her hopeless expression in concern. Camber had not seen Alixa like this since the early days right after her arrival, when the chaperone who had been her lone escort to their court had died unexpectedly, leaving her stranded and frightened among strangers in a foreign court, trying her best to put a brave face on things. Now, even that tiny spark of courage appeared to have been washed out. "Alixa," he repeated, tilting her face towards his so she would look at him. "You don't have to go back. As a widow, you would have rights that a maiden daughter lacks." He didn't add that such rights might hinge on the marriage actually being validated by consummation. Hopefully that would be assumed. Hopefully that had actually happened. If not, he really wasn't sure he wanted to know. That was far more about Cinhil and Alixa's private life than he really wanted to dwell too closely upon.

"It's in the betrothal contract!" She dashed her sleeve across her eyes again. "He's marrying my sister off, and now he wants me back as well."

Camber tried to bring the names of Alixa's younger sisters back up to the forefront of his mind. She had not seen either in nearly eight years. The youngest had been in her infancy, but the middle child–Cécile, that was her name!--she would likely be in her middle teens by now.

"He's found a match for Cécile?" The poor girl! Camber hoped she was better prepared for marriage than Alixa had been, or at least that the husband selected for her was a patient sort.

Alixa fished a folded letter out of her sleeve and handed it to him. "It was delivered by a post rider this morning. But I didn't get a chance to read it until a few minutes ago. Cinhil was having too much trouble breathing."

Camber unfolded the letter. A second, smaller scrap of paper fell out, which he caught before the breeze could whisk it away. Flattening the larger rectangle of paper, he swiftly scanned one of the few letters he could remember Alixa receiving from her homeland during her entire time in Gwynedd. Come to think of it, he thought the two or three others she had received had been from Cécile. This one was not.

"Unto Alixa of Joux comes this command from Renier, King of Joux, that you deliver yourself forthwith without delay upon the death of your husband King of Gwynedd, your service of marriage having been discharged without care for the one duty that was laid upon your trust at your betrothal. Upon the arrival of the news of his death at Our Court, you will be given one additional month to settle any accounts and affairs before your escort arrives to collect you. Writ by Our hand this 25th Day of Januarius in the Year of Our Lord 1464."

"Cold, unfeeling hijo de puta!" Camber's voice shook with outrage. Looking back over the letter, he quoted "'Your service of marriage having been discharged without care for the one duty that was laid upon your trust...' What in the everloving fu–!" He swallowed the epithet he had been about to spit out and worked to calm himself as Alixa's face turned scarlet.

"I had one job, to bear an heir," she whispered, looking miserable.

"Bloody hell, Alixa, that's not your fault!"

"I know." Her voice broke on the second word, breaking Camber's heart in two.

The breeze made the other scrap of paper he held flutter between his fingertips. He turned it over. This one had an even briefer note in a childish scrawl that looked like it might have been written by a girl closer to eight years of age rather than the sixteen years Camber was certain she had attained by now.

Alixa i hope they treet you well in Gwineth and that you are not ded I am to be mareed next month at the feest of sant valuntine he is sed to be hansom even tho he is but 12 and he cannot be any worse than Remy but i worry about Marthe if she is left alone here can you take her if she cannot go with me to istenmark i am afraid he will hurt her also her pours are gone to from your sister Cécile.

"Sweet Jesú." Camber looked back up at Alixa. Her education had been deficient in multiple ways when she had arrived in Gwynedd, though Queen Soraya had done her best to remedy the lack, but Alixa had at least known the basics when she arrived. "It looks like she is saying she is marrying a husband from Eistenmarcke tomorrow, but I can hardly make out what she is trying to say."

"Our Maman tended to our education, but when she died, Cécile was still learning her letters and simple words. I tried to teach her more, but there was little time between our mother's death and my betrothal. I thought for sure our father would hire a governess, but I imagine he thought that would be a waste of coin." Her voice was quiet, bitter.

He tried to think of what little he knew of the Eistenmarcke court, such as it was. They were a fighting people, sea raiders who made a practice of harrying the northern coast of Gwynedd every so often, requiring frequent border patrols and armed ships kept at the ready in their northern harbors to protect the coastal villages from their raids. Some parts of that land practiced a form of Christian faith that was similar to the form observed in Nördmarcke and Beldouria, but other regions held to far older ways.

Some of those older ways were more peaceful; others were very much not. Camber felt a keen sense of disquiet. "Why Eistenmarcke?" he wondered aloud. "What advantage would there be in marrying her to someone there? And what is this last bit about 'her pours are gone'?"

Alixa shook her head. "I have no idea. Father's thinking is incomprehensible to me, nearly as much so as Cécile's writing. I suppose I'll find out more when I'm forced to go back there." She swallowed hard, trying to hold back another eruption of tears.

Camber pulled her into a tight embrace, his hands lightly stroking her back as she lost her struggle and sobbed into his shoulder. "You're not going back, Alixa. You don't have to."

"I do, Cam! It's in the betrothal agreement. My dower money in exchange for proof of consummation, to be returned to him upon my widowhood if Cinhil dies without issue. Without my dower, I will have no means of support if I defy him, and the escort he sends will ensure I don't defy his command. I have no choice!"

"I'll give you that bloody consummation and a child, and all the support you need too, if that's all you need to be free of your sodding father!"

She froze in shock in his arms as he realized how he had just spoken to his brother's wife and Queen. He pulled back, taking a deep breath. "Cachu hwch! Forgive me, Alixa," he said in a low voice, utterly mortified. "I–that came out completely wrong."

"Was there some completely right way it was meant to go?" she asked in a small voice, her voice breaking on a tiny watery giggle.

"Oh God! I simply meant...."  He leaned back against the wall with a sigh, looking down at his hands and twisting the Haldane signet ring he wore. "Alixa, you are still married to my brother, so I'm not even free to ask...but once Cinhil is...."  He couldn't bring himself to even finish the thought. "Once you are a widow, I swear you will always have my protection. If you need to remarry quickly to remain safe and remain here, then that would require a dispensation from the Church because of our relationship by marriage. But I can ask for that dispensation, and given the circumstances, I am pretty sure it would be granted." At least he hoped so, though if Alixa was correct about the contents of her betrothal contract, they might be on somewhat shaky ground legally, and the Church might also rule that while Renier was not much of a father to Alixa, he still had a father's legal right over his daughter. But then again, as loath as he normally was to use his royal birth and privilege to his own advantage, he would bring its full weight to bear on the matter for Alixa's sake if he must.

"Oh, Camber! You are so kind. But I can't ask that of you," she told him, looking up at him with a sad smile. "I know your mother meant well in suggesting it when we were discussing marriage alliances for your sisters, but now that Colin is married, your need to follow in his footsteps is less urgent, and I wouldn't want to get in the way of your future prospects and happiness."

"Alixa...."  He took a deep breath, unable to look directly at her lest she see too much of what he felt for her in his eyes. "I...deeply care for you. I couldn't bear the thought of sending you back to Joux, no matter what your betrothal agreement says.  Just promise me you'll consider my offer, when the time comes."

"I can't ask you to sacrifice yourself for me, Camber."

He closed his eyes. "It wouldn't be a sacrifice, Alixa. It would be a surrender."

#

Alixa watched her husband's brother leave, feeling perplexed. It wouldn't be a sacrifice, Alixa. It would be a surrender. What had Camber meant by that?

She hugged her arms more tightly around herself as she considered Camber's offer. Once past the initial shock of it, she knew it was kindly meant. Ever since her arrival on these shores, Camber had done his best to help her feel at ease here in Gwynedd, in this royal court that she had been ill prepared to even enter, much less to act as Cinhil's consort in. To lift her spirits when she was anxious or afraid; to make her laugh when she was sad, as she frequently was, especially now that Cinhil's condition was growing so much worse. Camber was dearer than her own brother to her, though that comparison was unfair since Rémy wasn't dear to her at all. No, she supposed Camber was more like the brother Rémy should have been, in some ideal world in which she might have grown up loved and cared for as a child as she now knew she ought to have been.

But it would be so unfair to Cam to take him up on his offer. Cam deserved more than to be stuck in a marriage with his brother's grieving widow. And for that matter, she deserved more than that also. She knew that now.

She adored her husband for the things he had taught her over their seven years of marriage–that she had value, that she had worth, that he loved her for herself rather than for what she could give him, because God knows, that hadn't been much!  She might not have given Cinhil Haldane the child they both had longed for, but despite her deficiencies he had helped her find some sense of dignity and purpose nonetheless.

She had discovered what it was to be loved, and having known a marriage with love in it, she had no wish to settle for anything less. Though it had been a tempting offer, she had to admit. Camber was so vital, so handsome. So much like Cinhil might have been, in that ideal world where life was more fair.

He would be a wonderful husband, if he ever chose to marry. But he was not for her. She had known love, and when her days with Cinhil reached their bitter end, she would rely on that knowledge to give her the strength to face what she must do.


Next chapter: https://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php/topic,3222.0.html

[revanne]

Well, there's a can of worms.

[Evie]

Well, there's a can of worms.

Nothing like the occasional unlooked-for complication, huh? 

[DerynifanK]

And the web becomes even more tangled. I hope the eventual untangling will bring some peace and happiness to those concerned. I think one will never again envy royals.
I have to say I hope something really bad is in store for Renier.

[Evie]

And the web becomes even more tangled. I hope the eventual untangling will bring some peace and happiness to those concerned. I think on will never again envy royals.
I have to say I hope something really bad is in store for Renier.

There is a reason I call the middle chapters of a story "the messy middle." I ended up needing to keep a spreadsheet timeline to keep track of which events needed to go where in relation to others and make sure none of the subplots accidentally got dropped.

Renier is not a good man, that's for certain, but there might be others you detest even more before we're done.

[Demercia]

I love the way you make your characters so real.

[Demercia]

On great.  Nothing much to worry about then!

[Evie]

I love the way you make your characters so real.

They do have a way of coming to life and then hijacking my plans to tell their own story instead of the one I started off thinking I was going to write! 😅

On great.  Nothing much to worry about then!

In one of my stories? Never! Such a smooth sail all the way through! 😂

[DerynifanK]

Oh my. You are really good at creating wicked villains. Just hope they don't get away with too much.

[Evie]

Oh my. You are really good at creating wicked villains. Just hope they don't get away with too much.

Well, they wouldn't be very compelling villains if the worst they ever get up to is shoplifting bubble gum from the five and dime store, would they? 

That said, as dark as things might get (and they will get pretty dark at times), one thing I can promise you is that in an Evie story, good will always ultimately triumph over evil. Always. Sometimes a story needs pain, sorrow, and conflict in order to make the eventual return of peace, joy, and restoration of lives shine more brightly, but I believe in a worldview that always contains the promise of hope, grace, and redemption, so therefore I quite deliberately don't write grimdark stories where there is no hope and people's struggles lack meaning and end in futility.

I do, however, often write bittersweet, because life is bittersweet, so if a story is too much sunshine and rainbows, it might be sweet, but it doesn't feel as real to me and I am less invested in the characters. I want to see them struggle, but that's because I want to watch them overcome and earn their victories. For me, that's where the heart of Story lies.

[JudithR]

That's a complication. Life in Gwynedd cannot be described as plain sailing. 

[Evie]

That's a complication. Life in Gwynedd cannot be described as plain sailing. 

Pretty much anything but that, once I get my hands on them. 😂

[revanne]

What you say of your writing is what I like about it and what resonates with me. 

[Evie]

What you say of your writing is what I like about it and what resonates with me.

You know you just like keeping the Kleenex tissues company in business. 

[DerynifanK]

I just bought a supply of tissues in anticipation of future need as the story progresses.