Milady’s Wiles             by: Brandy Dewinter, with the invaluable assistance of P.J. Wright

 

Chapter 4 - "Thinking Deeper"

After the self-styled King of High Canyon had departed Mother stood. She spent a couple of long moments staring at the doors through which they had gone then gathered me up with her glance and left through the private door behind the thrones.

At the door to her chambers she waved all the attendants away, pul-ling only me in with her. Then she shut the door and began to pace around the room, still having said nothing.

The silence, combined with her tense, jerky motion finally got to be too much for me and I had to speak.

"Well, at least we know their plan."

This simple statement froze her in her tracks and once again her slender shoulders began to shake as deep, silent sobs wracked her body. Only the rustle of my gown whispered in the quiet room as I moved to her side and tried to console her.

"I’m sorry, Mother, I didn’t mean to hurt you. What did I say?"

"No, dear, it’s nothing you said. Well, not really. It’s just that your father would not have known their plan at this point. He was a good man, a man so honest that he was never able to see beyond the surface. He wouldn’t have understood what Kragdle and Lyonidas intended."

My own memories of my father were a bit distant to cause me to break into tears but I knew she was right, both in that he was honest and that he couldn’t see beyond the surface. The image of a battering ram came to mind. Her private assessment of him, which applied equally well to his two older brothers who had been passed over as King, confirmed that it was Mother who had really provided the guidance for Achaiea.

Queen Selay shook her head and straightened her shoulders. She had a regal duty no less than that of her husband and sons. The smile she tried on me was almost enough to make me cry as well, but we both got past the knife-edge of emotional distress and thought about our next actions.

"Suppose you tell me what you think they intend," she offered, or challenged.

"It seems clear that they expect to import henchmen who will marry into our nobility, claiming lands and titles left vacant in the war. This will lend justification beyond simple conquest and reduce the potential for resistance."

Her arched eyebrow invited me to go on though I was running out of steam. Still, I tried a bit more, "Oh, and they intend Lyonidas for me. They must intend for you to remain a widow so that no rival for the throne arises from some new husband or further children."

"Did you notice how Kragdle’s ploy helped you?" she asked.

"His ploy?" I guess not.

"Obviously," she began to explain, "he had heard the rumors of your birth. I expect they were just bare rumors with no descriptions. It was clear he didn’t even know your name, of course. Your father’s habit of claiming martial prowess for himself ‘and his two sons’, while it always did you a disservice before seems to have helped in this. He couldn’t be sure until he saw you whether you were male or female. He could have added some nonspecific "Youngest Prince" to the list of those to be sac-rificed and let us confirm or deny your existence. Why didn’t he do this?"

"Um, he didn’t want to appear ignorant?" I guessed.

Poorly.

Her smile showed tolerance that was worse than a rebuke. "No, he lost that when he didn’t show you on the list more than if he had guessed wrongly about your sex."

She relented though, and continued, "If you were male, and hiding, his fake ‘trial’ would have found you out and he would have a superficial justification for eliminating any organized opposition to his rule. On the other hand, if you were female and he called you for execution, then when it became clear you were a maiden you would have had justification for refusing the suit of his son, which he didn’t want to provide. He thought finding you in the throne room would resolve between only two alternatives, both of them good for him."

"And it helped us, instead?" I asked.

"Kragdle made it clear that the lives of everyone in the castle are forfeit if you are found to be male. That includes everyone who knows your true gender. He has passed his own sentence of death on any who might consider betraying you."

"You knew this would happen!" I realized.

Her smile this time had genuine pleasure in it, albeit the pleasure of a lioness with a fresh kill. "Yes, dear. Women are soft and weak. God has given us compensations."

Her voice made it clear that the compensations she claimed were those of subtle power, and that she had thought of the next steps as well.

"So what do we do?" I asked.

"Well, we need to encourage Kragdle’s plan, at least for now," she declared.

"Encourage it? I would have thought we should fight him at every opportunity."

"No, dear Cherysse," her emphasis on my new name reminded me we had already chosen against a frontal approach. "Kragdle has opened the door to love and romance which are a woman’s proper weapons. We will use these weapons against him more surely than we could ever use fire and steel."

Her comment made me look into my mind for the subtle power she claimed. Had I gained it when I had gained poise and gracefulness? Not that I could tell. I could see coquetry in plenty, but not guile. Yet clearly it was in my heritage. Kragdle had staged a play that my father would never have understood. My mother, the Queen, had turned that play against him into one that met our needs as though she had planned it herself.

A knock at her door interrupted our privacy. At her nod I answered it to find Hugh, the Chamberlain.

"Your Highness," he nodded to me, then continued to Mother, "Majesty, I am sorry to interrupt you in your time of grief, but the bodies of your husband and of your eldest son have been returned to us."

Queen Selay nodded with regal dignity, aloof and cold. Did Hugh know the torment she hid behind her closed doors? When it was clear she had nothing to say in response to his first announcement Hugh coughed delicately into his hand.

"I’m sorry, Majesty, but in this heat it would be best to have the funerals quickly. It has already been a full day."

Queen Selay nodded again, "Make the preparations. I, uh, we will be ready."

After he had left she slumped without moving, losing the erect pos-ture to the unbearable load that her slim shoulders must carry. But only for a moment. Even as I moved toward her she raised her hand to stop me.

"I’ll be all right," she promised, "but now that you have been officially announced as the princess, you will need to start taking a more active role in court affairs. Go see to Julia. She will be chief mourner for Tamor, just as I will be for Andros of course. Since Bareth had no fiancee you will be his chief mourner. I haven’t seen Julia yet today. She wasn’t in the throne room. Find her and get her ready. Your own attire is appropriate. Now go."

I left her alone in her room, only Greyshadow to keep her company in her loss. Yet she was still the Queen, and my mother, and I must obey.

Julia, Tamor’s betrothed, was in her own rooms. She stared out the narrow window of her bedchamber, not dressed though it was nearly noon.

I had never seen her out of formal court dress before. On the other hand, I’m not sure she had ever truly seen me at all. Though she was only a year or so older than me, I had been a pale shade lurking in the back-ground, lost in the boisterous energy Tamor had always carried with him. She was truly lovely sitting there in the sunbeam. Her long red hair, unbound since she had never left her chamber, glowed in the sunlight like a ruby cape spread across her shoulders. The sun caught the light ma-terial of her nightclothes and made them seem airy as angel’s wings. Only her somber expression detracted from the peaceful image.

"Julia?" I tried to intrude gently.

"Hmm?" she replied distractedly, then looked at me. "Who are you?"

She hadn’t been told about the masquerade. I should have known. I thought about how to say it but stumbled as every phrasing I could think of seemed vainglorious, or shameful, or both at the same time. Finally, I just started.

"I am Prince Deacon. Kragdle and his minions knew only rumors of another child to Andros, nothing more. When Mother realized this she decided I should masquerade as female until we can regain our kingdom."

"You are, um, Deacon?" she repeated in a dazed way, neglecting my honorific. Well, my old honorific.

"Yes, Julia, or at least I was. Now I am Cherysse and everyone in the castle will be executed if Kragdle ever finds out otherwise."

"Cherysse?" she asked, but really more of a statement coming out of her dreamy state.

"Yes," I repeated. "Now, we must get you ready for the funeral. You will be chief mourner for Tamor as is your right. Mother will attend the King and I will be mourner for Bareth. Call your servants and get dressed."

"I have not yet bathed today," she protested.

"I’m afraid there’s no time for that," I insisted, though a part of me wondered what she would look like as she bathed. A part that became very painful in just a moment within its hidden constriction.

She stood and began to move with some reflection of her normal ener-gy. The somber expression never left her face but her imperious sum-moning brought servants even as she stripped herself of her nightgown.

For an instant I thought I might be allowed to see what she would look like as she bathed even yet, but under her gown lurked a maiden’s lover no less intimidating than my own.

She was well into ignoring my presence, as usual, when it occurred to her that she was not really alone.

"Dea . . um. . . Cherysse? Is there anything more?" she asked as a way to dismiss me.

"Not for now," I admitted. "I will seek out the Chamberlain to determine our duties."

The tasks the Queen had assigned me swept me up in duty no less demanding because no physical danger was involved. I found the Chamber-lain scurrying around faster than I could keep up with in my long skirts, but he had placed the crown of Achaiea on my head himself, for however brief a period. He stopped when he saw my approach.

"How can I help you, um, Princess Cherysse?"

Hugh dutifully responded to my request for information on the funeral arrangements, though I would have been satisfied if one of his underlings had told me what I needed to know. When I had it straight I reported back to the Queen’s chambers. She had summoned Julia who was once again staring out a window, looking sadder than before. Her own black gown was tailored as elegantly as ours and left no doubt of the slender figure within. We waited until our appointed time, then joined the funeral procession. Members of the royal family were buried within the castle and the six caskets had been arrayed in a lower chamber.

The principal duty of a chief mourner, it turned out (this was my first royal funeral), was to select something from among the personal effects of the deceased that would be used a memorial symbol for them. By long tradition the symbol for the King was the crown, which had been brought down to adorn Andros. That complicated things since two Kings of Achaiea lay together. Hugh and his protocol experts had decided the right way to handle this was for Mother to take the crown from Father’s brow and hand it to me. I would place it on Bareth’s head for a moment while Julia selected something from Tamor. Then I, too, would take the crown, this time from Bareth.

My respectful stance with lowered head allowed my unbound hair to block my view of what Julia selected. But I could sense her stepping back and so knew when it was time for me to do my part. Once again the crown of Achaiea was in my hands. Once again I could not wear it. I delivered it to Hugh for him to hide somewhere. We weren’t going to surrender that to Kragdle. In a short while it was over. The funeral procession re-turned to the upper castle and dispersed.

I stayed with Mother until she reached her rooms but this time she didn’t want any company. Respecting her wishes, of course, I decided there was no better place for me than my own chambers. I was walking toward them when I heard a sound from Tamor’s rooms.

"Who’s there?" I demanded, though still the silver tones of a young woman robbed my words of real force.

Instead of an answer, the sound ceased altogether. Nonetheless I decided I had better look in on the room. If Wraith had gotten in among Tamor’s things, I’d be in more trouble than I needed right then. A part of me recognized the ludicrousness of this concern. I was King, for the love of God! The reasons why I couldn’t openly claim that made the prob-lems of an errant kitten trivial. Still, I had been through too many scolding sessions on behalf of that cat to just ignore the possibility.

The door stood ajar and I opened it slowly in order not to scare the kitten into some unreachable retreat. Inside, instead of a small grey cat I found Julia weeping on Tamor’s bed.

"Julia?" I asked in gentle interruption for the second time that day.

"What!" she snapped.

"What are you doing in Tamor’s room?"

"What business is it of yours?" she demanded, but I saw her hand try to hide something beside her on the bed.

"What have you got?" Now I was demanding.

"Nothing," she lied, for by this time I had stepped far enough into the room to see that she held an unsheathed dagger.

"Is this what you took as a memorial for Tamor?" I asked casually, though I kept moving closer.

"Yes," she bit off the word like it tasted foul.

"Then it should be in the memorial case," I reminded her.

"It has a higher purpose," she declared.

The dagger was unsheathed, the point was toward her, and it didn’t take all the intelligence I’d like to think I possessed to see what pur-pose she had in mind.

It made me angry. Julia as a beautiful girl, full of vivacious energy, quick with a laugh and even quicker with a sharp word in her own defense when she had been wronged. It was claimed that redheaded women had fiery moods. I didn’t know if that were true in all cases, but it was most certainly true with Julia. She was everything that a woman could be, saving only the regal dignity that Mother had gained with maturity. Yet she was ready to throw that all away in a flash of sorrow.

"Lady Julia," I became formal, "Queen Selay has need of you in her chambers." Maybe. Hopefully. Anything to keep Julia from being alone for a while.

She looked at me with disbelief, but could not complete her self-assigned destruction with me watching. Instead she nodded and stood to follow me.

When we reached the Queen’s chambers I moved to whisper in her ear. She nodded almost before the words were out of my mouth, as though she had expected it.

"Julia, I owe you an apology," Queen Selay began. This got Julia’s attention. Perhaps she had expected to be talked out of her desire or to be chided for a bad idea, but not contrition on the part of the Queen.

Mother continued, "I have not yet explained to you the critical role you will play in recovering our kingdom. Not knowing might have led you to make a disastrous mistake."

Critical role? She had Julia’s attention now. Not to mention mine.

"You are the second ranking maiden in the kingdom," Queen Selay continued, "after only Princess Cherysse herself. You are also a most beautiful woman, as is Cherysse. I need the two of you together to keep Lyonidas under control."

"Both of us?" I gasped in surprise.

"Yes," the Queen insisted. "Kragdle agreed to my period of mourning for you but Lyonidas didn’t like it. You noticed this?"

At my nod she continued, "If Lyonidas importunes his father suf-ficiently, this may be overturned. I need someone else to keep Lyonidas from becoming too focused on the goal of winning you."

Why was this not entirely pleasing to me? I didn’t want Lyonidas anyway. Was it just that I wanted to be won? Why was the touch of Lyonidas’ hands in my hair filling my mind?

"What is your plan?" Julia asked. There was more animation in her voice than when I had talked to her, except when I had made her angry.

"Lyonidas has already made his intentions toward Cherysse clear. We need to make them less clear. You will flirt with Lyonidas while Cherysse is chaste. I want him thinking of removing Cherysse and marrying you instead. Not to the point of actually doing something with Cherysse, but to the point that he doesn’t pursue her with all his energy."

"Indeed," Julia mused, not at all surprised by this plan. I was surprised though! Amazed to the point of gasping.

"Mother! How could you just use me like that?"

"Cherysse, you are my last surviving child. I would give my life a hundred times before seeing a frown on your face. But we both have a duty to Achaiea and to the memories of Andros and your brothers. Julia knows this. It is a woman’s way to use romance to gain her ends. I already told you that."

I never would have thought that my duty to Achaiea would involve letting my brother’s betrothed flirt with my own suitor. Of course, I never would have thought that my duty would involve me wearing a dress, nor the infernal contraption under it. This was too deep for me, too many impossible things going on at once. I rustled to a chair and sat to get my mind in order.

"There is more," Mother continued. Oh, God! What now?

"Cherysse, you and Julia both will require a companion from the no-bility for as long as you wear your maiden’s lovers. It is not possible to keep yourself clean and sanitary by yourself. I, myself, am respon-sible for your virtue and will be the only one to see you out of your restraints. However, when I am not present you need another who is of sufficient rank to tend to your intimate needs. In all the castle there are only the two of you for each other."

"But, um, Mother, my needs are, uh, not the same as Julia’s," I quietly protested.

"I know that, but Lyonidas does not. He will discover our customs quickly enough and will know something is wrong if there are any other arrangements."

"What will that entail, exactly," I asked. Julia did not. Apparen-tly she knew what was involved.

"Each bathing day, you will report to me in the morning for your bath. I will release you from your restraints at that time only. You will clean each other thoroughly, then I will help you into your lovers again. If I am not available, while you are out of the castle for exam-ple, you will have to help each other with your necessary functions as best you can."

"You want Julia to, um, touch me?" I asked.

"Yes, and you will have to care for Julia, as well," Queen Selay confirmed with unshakable determination.

"Julia, you haven’t said anything," I appealed to her for support.

"The Queen is right. It is the only way. I can do my part, see that you do yours," Julia declared, the fierce determination in her eyes an emotion-charged echo of the flatness in Mother’s tones.

Julia looked down at the dagger she still clutched in her hands as though wondering how it got there. Without a word she sheathed it and carried the memorial over to its place in the array that was part of the royal chambers. I moved to her side as her head bowed, but as I got close I heard her muttering. It was not sorrow that bowed her head, but anger.

"I’ll give you a memorial, my Tamor, that will pull a single dagger into obscurity. By the time we are done a river of blood will water your grave."

 

(continued in Part 5

 

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Milady's Wiles © 1998 by Brandy Dewinter. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.