Sun was streaming through the thick roof of trees of the royal grounds at Norbury Lake, and Katherine’s hounds were barking up a storm. It was not she who was hunting, but instead some of her knights, including the prized Henry, who she had loaned her dogs including the shepherd. The shepherd, a female she had called Selkie, was as the name suggests not a hunting dog, but instead symbolised the Duke of Dolcotshire’s desire for Queen Katherine herself to shepherd her vassals. Perhaps, then it was an ironic development that Katherine proceeded to train and utilise Selkie in the hunt. With her long white fur, she required frequent baths and brushing, and the servants prayed to God each night that Katherine would begin to see Selkie’s use value as an oversized lapdog.
Katherine herself was lying with her eyes closed in the high grass of the meadow. The hunting grounds were massive, perhaps the only way in which Norbury Castle was better suited to her than Souchon Palace was. It was built on a large hill colloquially called the Rock after its boulder-like shape, the steepest side towards the city of Norbury Lake. On the side facing away from the city and the coast, the royal gardens were built, that extended down a friendly hillside and flowed into a thickly forested area used as hunting grounds. In the valley, there was a meadow with a lazy river where the knights had built a shed on a bored afternoon, and just by the shed were the gates into the royal territory.
She was listening to the sounds of the hunt and the river and letting her face be caressed by the sunlight. It was still breezy and only March, so the rest of her was bundled up. The happenings at Souchon Palace had impacted her greatly and caused her to need more time on her own or with company of her own choosing, than she had the capability of organising for herself in the castle. So instead, she rode down with the hunt, and often trickled off to make herself comfortable in the belly of the gardens with a book or her knitting work. In the short time that she had come home — for Norbury Castle was still home, despite having spent less than a month there since her coronation — she must have knitted each adviser a pair of mittens already.
Sounds of steps wading through the high grass caught her attention, and she sat up to see who was approaching her. In the columns of sunlight that were let through the canopy, she saw Walter.
‘Morning,’ Katherine said, and lay back down.
‘Katherine, they’re looking for you,’ he said.
Invisible to Walter, Katherine raised her translucent brows and waited until he stood in her sunlight to open her eyes again. ‘That might be so,’ she said. ‘Come sit by my side, Walt. Or did whatever or whoever is looking for me come blue-torched?’
He sat down, kneeling by her side. His face was boyish, his brown eyes surprisingly soulful for his modest age.
‘No,’ he admitted. ‘Lord Overleigh told me you’ve a new suitor he wants your opinion on. Someone he hasn’t met but you have.’
Katherine shrugged and beckoned him to lie by her side. ‘Portraits tend to be rather patient,’ she said. ‘Henry and I will be betrothed next time we see one another. It will be for the better, I think. He’s got his life and I’ve got mine. Little will be shared and that’s what I prefer. Women waiting for their soulmate to become a marriage prospect, like Grace who cannot make up her mind, have something of a fool in them. Better marry someone with similar intentions to you.’
Walter found his familiar place with his head against Katherine’s. ‘People like you are caged in this way,’ he said. ‘My mother and father loved each other.’
He worried when Katherine briefly kept quiet. ‘There is no question that there will be nobody that I love,’ she said, ‘Or who I have loved in the past. It’s just unlikely that they’ll be anyone but favourites. Your parents, though they loved each other, lived in filth. If I was content living in filth, I could marry for love as well.’
Walter huffed and buried his face in Katherine’s hair. ‘You’ve never tried living in filth. I think you’ll find it much less stressful. You won’t have to hide out in the meadow.’
‘I’ll never grant you your own land, Walter,’ she said. ‘I suppose I’d only cage you. Who knows? If you’d been a lord, perhaps you’d had a shot at marrying one of my cousins or my ladies.’
‘I am pleased this way,’ he said innocently.
Katherine looked out at the sky over the horizon of Walter’s golden curls. ‘Forever?’ she asked. ‘You’d forever be happy as Lord William’s retired footman, living at the mercy of your beauty in the hands of a queen with infinite power over you?’
He chuckled grimly. ‘I’m happy living at court with you as long as your new husband doesn’t have a knight stake my eye out, or provoke his mistress to mar my face.’
‘Forever?’ she insisted. ‘I’ll be the one who has to turn you away? You wouldn’t want to retire from being some bedwarmer into owning a plot of land on which peasants work? You wouldn’t want to marry a noblewoman and begin a legacy? It’s not unlikely for people of your… occupation, I suppose, to end up this way.’
‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘Maybe one day. I guess I hadn’t thought about it.’
Katherine ruffled his hair and lay her head back down to stare into the flurry of dancing clouds. The birds were quiet. Walter was a humbling presence at court. He was among the few who did not grovel at her feet despite outranking him greatly. Walter was common folk, lucky to have the soulful eyes and cherubic curls so that he may have caught Katherine’s eye. In fact, lucky to have been among the few servants William had brought from Gartham.
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
He had not thought of the future because he had not constantly been attacked by it like Katherine was. There were no portraits for him to review, suitors to choose, no concerned advisers that spoke often of heirs and an easy succession after his death. Walter had nothing but what was bestowed upon him. Katherine blinked slowly. Perhaps she also had nothing but what was bestowed upon her.
----------------------------------------
When she did come in a few hours later, after the knights had brought in the game of that day and had returned the dogs to the kennel, she found the portrait and a letter in her cabinet, which she walked through in order to get to her bedroom. The top of the portrait was visible from where she stood, and she thought the headwear of whoever had been portrayed looked interesting. Out of curiosity, she got closer, and let herself observe.
He was certainly handsome. Smooth skin, full and fashionably trimmed beard, striking green eyes. Upon his head, a velvet bonnet that reminded her of Henri’s favourites. She looked for any identifying lettering, and once she noticed the crest, snorted. Fairfax. He looked more handsome on his portrait than he did when they had met, which she imagined might be the fate of all libertines in Henri’s inner circle, with their hard-wearing lifestyle of liquor and sleepless nights.
Imagining the letter would be his, she took it out of its scroll case and leaned against the desk in her cabinet in order to read. She felt rather repelled by the idea of Robert Fairfax having taken the time to write to her, or send her his portrait despite having interacted with her once. The attention he had given her on that fateful night of Henri’s coronation, a night that was supposed to celebrate not only Henri’s kingdom but the union of their two prominent houses, felt even more depraved than before.
Much to her surprise, the letter did not belong to Robert, and instead intrigued her with its meticulous handwriting. Instead of reading it, she quickly looked at its signature. Master Freyza, Duke of Tougaf. Her interest remained. They had not seen one another since the deal had been closed, not even in the hallways of Souchon Palace, where previously they often met.
Your Majesty,
May this letter find you well in the comforting embrace of your homeland. The recent discussions that we began are, as always, on my mind. Your insights into the economic policies of Ilworth, as well as your sharp and strategic mind, have inspired me greatly so far and will certainly continue to do so.
I find myself awaiting your return with more than expected anticipation. Not only has His Holiness the Sultan inquired to your copper, I am equally curious to learn more about the unique perspective and person that steers the ship Ilworth. Might we set aside a quiet moment in our next meeting to explore our values and strategic considerations? Such a discussion would, I believe, enrich the bonds between our nations and strengthen the alliance that I will proudly foster.
Until then, I remain steadfastly yours in our joint pursuit.
With highest regard,
Master Freyza, Duke of Tougaf, ambassador of the Sbai Empire
It caught her off-guard. She narrowed her eyes and decided to give the letter to one of her ladies, to see whether she was imagining things, or whether it really seemed likely that the ambassador was trying to get her alone. In its cowardly way, it was bold. Cowardly not just to ask in letter, or even to fit it a disguise of diplomacy, but to wait for her to be out of the country to do so. It seemed to her like rather juvenile dealings.
Aside from that, it was rather charming. Far more charming than the shameless courage of Robert Fairfax: that was certain. As she wandered the halls in search of Constance, who was her first-in-command when it came to gossip and the analysis of letters, she considered the past few months. Since the last time she had left Norbury Castle, the Baradran government had fallen, Henri had been crowned, and it seemed that the Sbaians were vying for her attention in a world where Sbaians historically only vied for Baradran attention. She wondered whether these gilded desert people were not shooting themselves in the foot: after all, Katherine’s daughter had De Serra blood, and as long as she remained otherwise without heir, supporting Katherine de facto supported a De Serra queen in the future. That, or an unstable future with another succession crisis. Either way, it was not the future most royal houses were vying for.
Constance sat in the great hall, having just come in from a ride herself or so it seemed. She was wearing an expression of exhaustion, and her hair was windswept. When her eyes fell on Katherine, her eyes lit up and she sped towards the young queen.
‘Tell me you’ve seen the portrait,’ she said giddily.
Katherine smiled sardonically. ‘Fairfucks,’ she said matter-of-factly, ‘Is not going to court me, Constance. I’d rather marry you, if I’m completely honest.’
‘Ooh,’ Constance began, ‘At least you feel strongly about the guy. Besides, what’s the point in Robert? He’s a vassal of a vassal so brings in no money but tax money. Marry Henri and you’ll have access to Robert as well. Likely at the same time by occasion. Seems like a better agreement. What did he write you?’
‘Well, that’s the thing,’ Katherine said. ‘It was not Robert who wrote me, but the Sbaian ambassador.’
Her eyes widened. ‘No…’
‘Yes,’ Katherine protested. ‘He wants to arrange a meeting when I return to Souchon Palace. If I return would be more apt, but he doesn’t know that, of course. From what I read: a meeting with him alone. What do you think: tryst or assassination attempt?’
‘Assassination attempt,’ Constance ruled.
‘Really?’
Constance rolled her eyes. ‘Why wouldn’t he say it to you if it had any personal implication? Your spymaster reads all your letters. He’d be a fool to suggest anything lascivious through writing, because he ought to know it will mean that Richard is stalking by the door if you agree. Fine, Katherine. Tryst. But a very, very stupid and ill-conceived attempt at a tryst that you wouldn’t want to be a part of.’
‘You’re no fun,’ Katherine huffed. ‘You’ve ever had a Sbaian lover, Constance?’
Katherine had never seen Constance make such a concerned expression. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen an attractive Sbaian man, actually.’
‘Then how would you know?’ she asked. ‘Why not? I don’t think attractive would be the right word, but he’s far from repulsive. Intriguing. Somewhat mysterious.’
Constance leaned in and brought the back of her hand up to Katherine’s forehead. She kept it there a few seconds and withdrew. ‘You don’t seem to have a fever,’ she said. ‘Strange.’
Katherine clicked her tongue. ‘Quit being dramatic. You haven’t even met the man! Haven’t even seen him about, I’m certain.’
‘All these lovers,’ Constance said with a sigh, ‘And yet your instincts steer you wrong. You’d think the sheer numbers should’ve brought some taste into you, but here we are. Setting up a tryst with the Sbaian ambassador.’
‘I’m asking Grace,’ Katherine decided, tightening her grip on her letter.
Constance smirked with great satisfaction. ‘Grace will just tell you not to sleep around, Kathy.’
As she turned, Katherine threw her lady a final glance. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘And yet here we are. Finished talking.’