Her breaths hung in the air, what little of her that lay exposed long-since numbed by the chill. However, she made no complaints, handling her horse with the same comfort and grace as if the wind didn’t carry snowflakes, ground slick with slush.
Around her, twenty-odd others accompanied her. All but one of those wore armour, the inside partially padded with leather in places to keep the freezing metal from their clothes, and they had weapons at their sides, a mix of swords, maces, and lances. They rode in a loose circle around her, little difference between the road and the ground at this time.
While they headed to the top of a hill, they took a longer route that curved along the rise, an easier ascent to make safely. It granted quite the view. The southern side of the hill would show the sprawling capital of Bavaria, yet this northern side showed vast fields covered in an almost pristine layer of glittering snow.
Her fief certainly had farms of its own, but it could not compete with the abundant farmland of her neighbour. In truth, she felt it a relief, knowing how much harder a famine would hit such a place. Not just that the cities would still need to be fed, but that harvests were the easiest to tax—and rather substantial too.
An idle thought, she hoped the Marquess had prepared for such an eventuality; it would be an annoyance to have chaos spilling over.
Upon the hill lay a manor. It held history in its design, a few wings from progressively older times that had, upon their construction, become the main manor, only to be later usurped. The oldest now took on the role of stables, a large building of a single storey and made of wood and mud with a thatched roof. Coming off from it at a wide angle was a stone building, two storeys tall and squarish; it was made of large, irregular stones, and had several crude chimneys added in more recent years, now relegated to the kitchens and sleeping quarters for the footmen and guards.
Last of all was the current manor. While also made of stone, these were neat slabs little different to bricks but for the grey colour, and slate tiles made up the roof. It had also been twice expanded over the years, first to extend the two-storey building by another room or two, and then to convert part of the roof into something of a tower, a third-storey of a single room with a flat roof.
Those buildings all occupied the highest point of the hill. Lower down, the echoes of ancient buildings lingered in how parts of the slopes were flattened out. What wooden palisade had once encircled the area was now replaced by sturdy walls of heavy stone.
Circling around to the city-facing side, she and her entourage arrived at the gatehouse. It was not as simple nor innocent as a gate that could be raised and lowered, but, at least for today, she felt confident she would not be seeing what it could do to less-welcome guests.
Of the twenty-odd, only three dismounted with her and only two horses joined them through the open gates. She had no need to speak to anyone, her knight responsible for talking to the servants at this time; he arranged with a stable-boy for the horses to be put up.
The guests, on the other hand, headed to the manor proper. Although a slope slick with slush, stairs made it a comfortable climb, albeit still a perilous one if careless and so they did not rush.
Her gaze fell upon the walls, curious. She knew well the late, late Marquess, if only from her father’s records. It seemed to her he had no expectation of a serious foe making it this far. An impressive wall, but not a fortification comparable to those at the border with Bohemia or Austria.
Rather, these were a reminder of the status the manor held.
Upon approaching the front door, the heavy wood swung open and a young child ran out. “Aunty!”
Without hesitation, Julia knelt down on the wet stone, her arms wide until she hugged tight the child. “Oh my, how you have grown. To think you are already eight years old,” she said.
The child giggled. “I’m not that old… yet!”
“Nine years old?”
“No, younger!”
“Well then, you certainly are rather big for your age if you’re only two,” she said, lifting the child up as she stood.
The child laughed louder, holding tight. “I’m five, but I shall be six in spring,” she said, pride in her voice.
Julia chuckled. “Well, Miss Charlotte, I shall look forward to picking out a suitable gift for such an occasion. Let us think… for my sixth birthday, my father gave me a book about flowers. I loved it so much, I have tried to press one of every matching flower. However, I am rather past the age to enjoy such a hobby—would you like to finish what I started?”
She walked forwards as she spoke, coming inside the entrance hall where the Marchioness patiently waited with the other children.
Charlotte didn’t hesitate to answer, her enthusiastic nodding shaking Julia’s balance. “Oh yes! That would be most wonderful,” she said, her mouth wide in a childish grin.
Julia chuckled as she let the child down and she stayed down in her squat. “I shall have it arranged on my return,” she said, then turned her sights to the other two children. Otto, although hiding behind his mother, looked at Julia with utter adoration, his eyes wide and smile shy.
Then there was the littlest one who shared her name. This little Julia already tried to toddle over, her mother’s hand holding her back as if a cat picking up her kitten by the scruff of its neck. At the elder Julia’s nod, the little Julia was unleashed, racing over in tottering steps.
“Little Lia, look at you! When we last met, you could only crawl, yet now run as fast as a hunting hound,” she said, her voice warm and her embrace consuming the giggling toddler. After a moment, Julia pulled back, then lifted the toddler into the air, even throwing her up a touch and catching her. “I am forever honoured to share my name with such a boisterous babe. Thank the Lord for us to be merry and full of life, for there is no greater joy.”
She let the toddler babble a few half-words at her, then slid her to the side, holding her up with one hand. Her other hand freed, she beckoned for Otto and, after a moment’s hesitation, he ran over as well—if only to show he was also boisterous, merry, and full of life. With a dip down, she scooped him up, having him rest on her other hip. Comfortable with her strength, she then gently twisted side to side and the children laughed their innocent laughs.
Once they had been suitably greeted, she let them down and, finally, turned to greet her host with a curtsey. “Marchioness Bavaria, my thanks for having me.”
Just that Dorothy waved her off and strode over to personally brush off the snow that had settled on her shoulders. “Let us have you warmed up. Truly, how can you ride in this weather? A lady should take her carriage.”
Julia gave a smile at the mothering, letting her host finish before giving a reply. “It is because of this weather I did not dare take a carriage. The roads between us have little use after the harvests and to go via the capital would take a week—if not more.”
Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
After a sigh, Dorothy returned her smile, then clapped her hands. At once, the butler and maids leapt into action. Julia’s coat and hat were hung up; a warmed shawl draped over her shoulders.
“We have hot drinks through in the drawing room,” Dorothy said, leading the way. With the fun over, a nanny and a nursemaid shepherded the younger two children away, while the older one carefully walked over to a stern governess with attempted poise.
Julia half-turned. “Sir Ludwig, dismissed.”
“Yes, ma’am!” he said with a salute and, half a second later, the younger man with him echoed his words.
So she strode after her host, her maid following behind.
The manor’s interior spoke of a ducal elegance. Fine rugs and tapestries covered much of the floor and walls, along with busts and paintings for decoration. As if they were children, the hallway was rather wide, the ceiling high, and the dark doors grand.
Once they arrived at the drawing room, Dorothy ushered her guest to the seats by the roaring fireplace—and urged a maid to add more wood.
“Pray drink. If you would like, I could even borrow some of Albert’s brandy,” Dorothy said, her conspiratorial tone accompanied by a matching smile.
Julia gently laughed at the joke, then sipped at the offered tea. “My thanks for the offer, but I would make do with wine at meals,” she said, pausing for another sip. “Could my maid be seen to?”
“Oh of course,” Dorothy said and nothing else needed to be said; the maid who had just added more logs to the fire strode over to door with Gianna in tow.
Nothing else needed to be said by Julia either, so she sipped some more, the almost-scalding drink prickling at her chilled throat.
“I must apologise. When you said two days, knowing the distance and the weather, I thought you would arrive no earlier than evening. Do tell me, what would you like to eat?” Dorothy asked, her voice lacking awkwardness despite her words.
Julia gave a soft smile. “If I may ask for anything, then a butter sandwich.”
“Oh Julia, you do wound me,” she said, tilting her head. “Please, allow me to be a hospitable host.”
“Pray forgive me for being a miserly guest. My appetite is rather shaken by the travelling, so I would only ask for something light. Besides, Bavaria is known for her wheat and milk, is she not? I could only imagine how wonderful the bread and butter of her manor is.”
Covering her mouth, Dorothy chuckled, then lowered her hand to show a broad smile. “My, how I have missed your company,” she said.
“Me too,” Julia said in a half-whisper.
With a gesture, Dorothy sent the maid overseeing the tea to pass on the request to the kitchens, all the while keeping her gaze on her guest. “Still, if I may chide you on behalf of your parents, it really is no good for a lady to be out riding in this weather,” she said, a motherly weight to her words.
Julia lowered her head, a touch of embarrassment colouring her posture as she seemed to shrink in her seat. “I wish it was so, but, before a lady, I am a ruler. Perhaps, if I had family to support me, I could be meek and delicate; however, the Wars of Heresy spared little of my father’s family and my mother’s family are mere commoners, what support they could offer only serving to undermine my position. So I must be strong. I must be someone worthy of ruling my subjects.”
She spoke in a quiet voice, not meant for any but her host to hear, yet it was not a frail voice. At the heart of it, a firm confidence lay and it lay bare.
“There is no need to take this old lady’s words too seriously. I know your position is difficult, I do. However, that is precisely why I must remind you that, beneath your title, you are a woman. I would hate for you to push yourself now and then, when the time comes, struggle to conceive.”
A weight seemed to settle on Julia at those words. So still, tense, her face without so much as a polite smile. When she spoke, it sounded hollow. “How is it that I am to conceive when my betrothed would marry another?”
“Julia… there is no need to hold yourself to such things,” Dorothy softly said.
“If the King has approved it, how is it that I could disagree? Yet I must answer to God. If I did wed another, I would only invite divine punishment upon myself. More than that, I pledged my soul to him,” she said, ending in a whisper. “I am not the kind of woman who would then offer a suitor that which I no longer have.”
Dorothy’s face showed a weight of its own, her heavy gaze finding it hard to stay on her guest. “Oh Julia, when it comes to these things, God understands and forgives us. Especially when it is out of our control.”
For a while, Julia said nothing, keeping her head bowed, until finally she broke the silence in a whisper so quiet Dorothy could almost believe it the wind, and what she heard was something she almost wished she didn’t believe.
“Do you think Prince Hector shall let me live, never mind marry?”
It was a question that, in the end, Dorothy could only answer with another question: “Well, that may depend upon what exactly the dowry was.”
Julia gave a single, empty laugh. “A book my mother wrote.”
Dorothy’s eyes widened, only for her to then frown. “A book?”
“Her family has a long history entwined with the Italian troubles—not to say they are mere bystanders, nor that they are the primary culprits. Regardless, her family’s notes gave her a particularly thorough history of politicking to review. What she wrote is what I may only call a book of tyranny. At a glance, it looks as if a historical record, yet what it records is how certain people and families came to power, and the methods they used are… let us say less than Christian.”
After listening, Dorothy’s expression softened. “That is curious, yet I do not understand how it would be of interest to the King?” she said, a slight hesitation to her voice.
“Well, to be frank, it is in the King’s interest that such a book is not known. It would give the worst of us lords and ladies underhanded methods to gain and hold onto power. Not only that, but, between the two of us… I know Prince Hector yearns for fame. If my fears are true, he intends to bring Switzerland into the Empire and march south into Italy.”
Of all the things Dorothy had anticipated discussing with her beloved guest, this kind of treasonous talk was not one of them, yet she was not entirely surprised. The Crown Prince’s choice of bride had hardly been without contention.
However, she still felt as if something eluded her. “You believe the King wished for Prince Hector to not know the book?”
“I do,” Julia said, her voice quiet, yet confident.
“Is it truly so… insidious that he would hate his son learning its secrets?”
Julia did not answer right away, but brought up her hand and made the sign of the cross on her chest first. “It contains numerous crimes of the Church too.”
She paused for a moment, letting that statement sink in, then continued.
“My father made sure I knew well the deep wounds the Wars of Heresy have left, wounds which have yet to heal. However, whenever Prince Hector discussed such history, he spoke full of pride at how his grandfather led such marvellous armies, the likes of which we may only hope to never see raised again. Whether out of ambition or zealotry, I could see him using such crimes as justification for an expedition south.
“Even if not him, for this book to be known, it may well spark another era of cruelty and violence.”
Finally, she raised her head and her gaze found her host’s, Dorothy’s face pale, hands clenched, bunching up the fabric of her dress. Upon their eyes meeting, she gave a weak smile. “I understand now why the King would wish for such a book to remain hidden. However, I do not understand why such a book would be written in the first place.”
“My mother… loved Italy,” Julia said, a gentleness to her voice. “She loved it so much despite seeing such evil throughout its recent history. Although she knew such a book would cause untold chaos, she hoped to study the matter and refine it so that, instead of instructing others how to do evil, it would make them aware of such evil and explain how to oppose it, hoping for the people of Italy to one day stand united.
“However, my father was… short-sighted. With my mother passing, he became terrified of what would happen to me if he joined her too soon. So he negotiated with the King. I do not know the precise terms, only that the betrothal resulted and the King gained possession of the book. All I have left are some notes she had drafted for her second book.”
Silence followed, deep and thick, the kind that swallowed words, Dorothy often going to speak only to stop herself. Eventually, though, a knock rang out and Julia’s humble meal was delivered, providing a release from the tension, especially as the maid now joined them in the room to oversee the tea.
That did not mean Julia could not still speak of it. “Although I have not mentioned those details to Lord Bavaria, I would not ask a wife to keep secrets from her husband, certainly not as a guest in his residence. That said, we did not part on the best of terms last time…. I worry he would make a poor judgement from knowing this.”
Dorothy sighed, taking a moment to press between her eyes. “Albert, as good as he is, has become rather sceptical after everything that happened. I understand, truly I do, and it is not that I disagree, but when his scepticism should drive a wedge between himself and good people such as yourself—I wish he would rely on my judgement a little more.”
“It cannot be helped. These lords would see me as a woman to be dismissed, or a threat to be squashed. I have learned to accept it,” Julia said, neither anger nor sorrow in her voice.
Dorothy went to speak, yet could not bring herself to disagree, so she took a deep breath and moved on. “Well, regardless of everything else, it is good to have you here. When I thought of you spending Christmas alone, my heart ached.”
“It is good to be here,” she replied, her small smile back.