Chapter 38:

Isabel settled into her role as queen with more ease than anyone expected. Now that she had let go any animosity between Christopher and herself and decided to create a court of her own choosing, Isabel felt content to live in his world as queen. After some careful conversation with her husband, in which she suggested (with careful reluctance, of course) that Tamora remain in the rooms she had inhabited some thirty years or more, Isabel secured her current chambers for herself and thus remained in possession of the mysterious open room. She cared little for the slightly larger apartments that had always been the queen’s suite and felt it, in fact, a necessary change, indicative of the transformation Isabel intended to bring upon the court. Isabel decided, much in the way of her predecessor, to make her changes without sound and let the courtiers catch on at their own pace. Secretly, Isabel relished the idea of watching their confusion as they broke the icy façade that plagued the court.

Within weeks, the court had split between the two social forces: the older generations remaining with Tamora and the younger with Isabel. Unlike Tamora, Isabel did not require every lady and gentleman of the court to attend her for a proscribed time each day. She enjoyed their company, but made no demands. Nevertheless, much of the court made its way to Isabel’s room or wherever the young queen might be, in the gardens or by the sea, to spend their days. Isabel loved to fill her chambers with music and dancing and when outside, sought out any sport there was to be had. Her coterie of ladies had grown to include any young woman who wanted a bit more freedom to live and every young man who desired the company of smiling, laughing females.

On one of the rare days – very rare days, Isabel had come to know – when clouds come out to hide the sun, Isabel sat inside her receiving chamber watching as some of her ladies rehearsed a dance for an upcoming masquerade. As she watching, body swaying with the lively music, another of her ladies approached to kneel at her side. The lady, the wife of Christopher’s chief adviser and best friend, had been the first to step forward with a desire to ride. Countess Aurelia had red hair that fell in unruly curls about her face and bright blue eyes and seemed always open to any bit of fun the queen proposed. Isabel had taken a great liking to the young woman.

“My lady,” Aurelia said in a low voice. “There is a gentleman here who wishes to be presented.”

“Which gentleman?” Isabel asked.

“By the door, my lady, with the light hair.” Aurelia turned her gaze to the door and Isabel followed her line of sight. Sure enough, a well-built gentleman with blonde hair stood in the shadow of the doorway, looking as though he did not wish to be noticed.

“Who is he?”

Aurelia lowered her voice again. “He is a duke, the heir to an ancient line that was only recently restored.”

Isabel frowned. “Why only recently?”

“His father, Your Majesty,” Aurelia whispered, leaning closer to Isabel. “His father was executed for treason by the old king. As punishment his family went into disgrace and his son was prevented from taking the rightful title. The king forgave him just months before you arrived, as a reward for his bravery in battle. But as he knows few people at court and fears their scorn, it is my wish that you will take him into your circle.”

“What did his father do that deserved execution?” Isabel had never met a traitor before, nor a traitor’s son. In her father’s kingdom, there had been few executions and little dissent.

“He spoke against the king, my lady, and the old king did not tolerate dissent.”

Isabel tried to hide her disgust. She hoped Christopher lacked the paranoia of his father and would allow his subjects freedom to speak their mind. “Bring him up and make a fuss. I want everyone to see.”

Aurelia smiled. “Thank you, Your Majesty. You will not regret this.” She went quickly to the door and took the young man by the arm, leading him forward until they both stood before Isabel. Aurelia sank into a deep curtsey and the music broke off when she spoke again. “Your Majesty, may I present His Grace, Duke Eric Renaut?”

The Duke stepped forward and bowed low before Isabel. She extended her hand and he kissed it with unpracticed grace. He bowed again, then stood before Isabel. “Your Majesty, it is an honor to meet you.”

“And you, Your Grace, what a pleasure to meet one of my husband’s great lords.”

The man laughed, flashing a grin of pearly teeth. Isabel remarked to herself that he was one of the most handsome men she had every met. Though not tall, the duke’s strong figure and straight stature exuded such a presence that Isabel wondered how he ever thought he could hide himself in shadow. With the light hair, which he wore in the short, military style, the Duke had light, green eyes and when he finally raised them to meet hers, they looked so familiar. He smiled again as he met her gaze and looked down in modesty. “I would hardly consider myself a great lord, Your Majesty.”

Now Isabel returned his laugh. His humility did not carry any tinges of falsehood or flattery, which Isabel appreciated in a court so prone to fake servility. “Well, Your Grace, I suppose it is right that it is not one’s opinion of oneself that matters most.” She intended to convey through her eyes and the warmth of her voice that she cared not of his sullied lineage, so when the Duke met her eyes with an appreciative, if puzzled gaze, Isabel knew her message had been received. And when she looked about the silent room to see the shocked looks her courtiers were attempting to hide, Isabel knew that everyone present had felt her meaning as well.

When Isabel rose from her seat, the room folded into bows and curtsies. Isabel ignored the little dance; she had become so accustomed to their practices puppetry since she could not strike it from court protocol. Placing a hand on the Duke’s arm, Isabel said, “The sun seems willing to return. Would you join me for a walk, Your Grace?”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” The Duke bowed again, offering Isabel his arm.

Threading her arm through his muscled one, Isabel glanced back at her court. They could not follow her if she did not invite them – at least there were some bits of etiquette Isabel appreciated. “Come Aurelia, Angeline…I’ll see the rest of you at dinner.” With that, Isabel allowed the Duke to lead her from the room.

Outside in garden the sun had finally come out and as they walked, her ladies lagged several paces behind. They would not come closer, Isabel knew, as they had been trained not to listen in on their sovereign’s conversations. The Duke wove a nice discourse on all sorts of trivial things – the gardens, the wind, the new pleasure boats the king had commissioned for the season. Isabel enjoyed how easily words flowed between them, for the Duke had no obsequious tendencies sure to ruin good talk. He was respectful, but not overly differential, seemingly unable to speak falsely for flattery’s sake. Isabel saw in their conversation the mark of a man whose father had been unafraid to speak his mind and had paid the dearest price for his honesty. And Isabel respected him more than any other man she had met in Christopher’s country, for he had not come from a silky childhood, but had earned back his title through action.

“Your Majesty,” The Duke said, bending to pluck a pink rose from a nearby bush. “Forgive me if I speak too frankly, but I must thank you for the attention you have paid me. It was my hope that I might make a smoother transition if I could find favor with you, and you have gone beyond the courtesy I desired.”

Isabel accepted the flower he offered, making sure to hold his gaze. “Any attention I pay you, any courtesy I extend, you deserve. You seem to be a breed apart from your countrymen and I appreciate your honesty. I hope you will infuse the court with your fresh attitude.”

The Duke frowned and took Isabel’s arm again. “I have no doubt, Your Majesty, that you are aware of why I am different from your court darlings.” Isabel chuckled at the term. “My birthright was denied me for so long that I have never been a part of court until now. I lack the decorum…”

“Lack,” Isabel interjected. “Is the wrong word, Your Grace. I have little love for the hard etiquette of my husband’s court and wish to change it. Failing that, I want to surround myself with individuals who share my lack of propriety.”

His eyes twinkling, the Duke said, “Good luck.”

D

In the evenings after dinner, Christopher liked to gamble and drink with his men. Sometimes Isabel grew tired of her ladies’ company and dismissed them so that she could read or sit in peace. On these evenings before Christopher came to bed, Angeline was often at hand with another maid in waiting or two in case Isabel needed them. But after all of the day’s excitement, Isabel retreated to the solitude of her bedchamber to reflect on what life had been like under Christopher’s father. She knew so little about the history of Christopher’s country, but any unbiased histories would not be written about her father-in-law for many decades to come. Isabel had no way to learn about the past besides the knowledge of her friends at court. Few had been willing to share much with her and had never mentioned anything unsavory. Isabel disliked her ignorance, for she felt she could never know her husband, nor fully love him, until she knew all of him. But she had little idea of where to begin or if her quest was even possible.

As she started out into the dark, clear night, counting the stars from her place in the deep marble window seat, Isabel heard a knock at her door. She turned slowly, expecting Christopher. But Drake stood in her doorway, to her surprise. He had not come unbidden into her presence since she had married Christopher. “Forgive me for disturbing you,” Drake said, coming over to the window seat. “But I wanted to speak without an audience.”

“Of course,” Isabel replied, offering him a seat next to her. “You are always welcome.” Isabel meant that, for Drake was one of the few people who spoke more truth than flattery and she had a genuine liking for him.

Drake stared up at the stars for a moment. “I’ve always liked spending the winter here, ever since I was a little boy. The skies are so clear at night, you can see any manner of constellations.”

Isabel did not know how to reply. Certainly he had not come here to reminisce about his childhood. “I hope we never go back.”

“I wanted to thank you,” Drake said, suddenly meeting her eye for the first time in months. “Eric Renaut is my greatest friend, we came out of boyhood together in battle and I hoped he would make a good start here at court. Your attentions are the only thing keeping the court from shunning him.”

Isabel sighed. “I have never understood the trend of holding one accountable for the actions of one’s parents.”

“Nor have I,” Drake said. “But it is what men do. I want very much for Christopher to accept Eric. He’s a good man, truly. I’ve never had a better friend.”

“I enjoy his company,” Isabel said, giving a little shrug of her shoulders. “Had I met him under other circumstances, I feel certain I would have liked him just the same. He’s different, I know you understand.”

Turning his eyes back to the starry sky, Drake fell silent. They had not been alone together since that night months ago. Isabel thought that to sit in silence with him would be awkward, with the weight of the past pressing on them. But somehow, the quiet with Drake felt just as right as anything else. “I am glad Eric has come to court. He will be helpful if any…problems should arise.” Drake spoke without moving his gaze.

“Problems?” Isabel echoed.

“A country like this, always expanding, has many enemies, kings desirous of their stolen lands.”

“War.” Isabel disliked the word and how it hung in the room like a bad smell.

Drake looked at her. “You needn’t be worried. Christopher won’t fight.”

Isabel nodded. “But you will.”

Pursing his lips as he rose from the window seat, Drake said, “War is my life. I’ve long come to accept that fact.” And with a little bow, Drake swept out of the room.

D

In the capital city, Christopher’s position required that he take, at least visibly, a greater role in the running of his country. Though he made an excellent monarch in figure, Christopher lacked the patience for administration. He liked an active life, a mobile life, so sitting in a room with his councilors for the better part of a breezy sun-filled day appealed little to him. Luckily, Drake possessed the needed qualities for running the nation and Christopher had excellent councilors. But with the pressure of the capital city and the expanded court, Isabel saw less of Christopher during the day than she had been accustomed to since their wedding.

But after the arrival at court of Duke Renaut and the creation of her own court within the larger one, Isabel did not mind so much the lack of her husband’s attention. The nice weather made activities more plentiful and Isabel could rarely be found indoors while the sun shone. During these warm days when affairs of state kept Christopher busy, Isabel and her particular friends picnicked one of the wide lawns behind the palace. There they laughed and played any number of games and the queen particularly loved a game of hide and seek, which was made ever so much more exciting by the expanse of gardens at the palace.

On some of these afternoons, however, Christopher managed to slip off the weight of administration and wander down to the gardens to join his wife and her court for their fun. He never noticed that his mother failed to join in the parties, or anyone of her generation. Isabel’s group featured only the young and exciting and Christopher much enjoyed their company after a long morning of paperwork and dull discussions.

So one afternoon, as he lay sprawled on his back in the warm sunlight, Christopher wanted nothing more than to relished these hours with his wife. He had just spent four hours of his morning dealing with a few rumblings in the southwest corner of the territory. A few border raids had occurred there, where his rule was most newly established, and neighboring soldiers were more frequently spotted just over the green hills that separated his country from the next. Sometimes he didn’t know why he had to attend those meetings, for Drake and the others had all of the smart ideas and all they wanted from his was a signature and a nod of approval. No, Christopher wanted to be out among his courtiers and most importantly, his wife. As he lay in the sun, Christopher reached out a hand to pull Isabel toward him, but she playfully shied from his grasp. He opened his eyes to see what she was doing and saw book open in her hands. Christopher wanted to groan – on a beautiful afternoon with nothing to administer the last thing he wanted to see was a book. So he sat up, trying to snatch the book from Isabel and pulling her down into the grass with him. “You can read anytime.”

“Well, sir, this is usually the time when I read, since you are occupied with affairs of state.” Isabel replied. “So you see it is you who encroach upon my routine, not the other way around.”

“As you king and husband,” Christopher said, pinning Isabel beneath him. “I command you to relinquish the book.”

Isabel forced her face to look grave. “And if I fail to comply, my liege, what shall my punishment be?”

“I shall imprison you in my bedroom for a month!” Christopher announced, sending his wife into giggles. She released her hold on the book and he sprawled on the grass beside her. “I may still punish you, just because I wish to.”

“All the same, it is the most interesting of books,” Isabel sighed. “It’s about the female warriors of the ancient armies. Do you know about them?”

With a distinct lack of interest, Christopher said, “Perhaps, I can’t recall.”

“Well they –”

“If you are so interested in military matters, I feel you will soon have all of your curiosity satisfied.”

Isabel sat up at once, looking down at her husband in alarm. “You don’t mean a war?”

Christopher gave a booming laugh. “No, no, my darling. There’s to be a military parade and tournament in a few weeks. Mother thinks we ought to have one, to celebrate and also as a reminder. Several ambassadors will be visiting then…”

“A tournament?” Isabel repeated, intrigued.

Smiling, Christopher said, “Yes, and we’ll be leading the parade so you’ll want to have a new riding outfit made – something stunning.”

A slow smile spread across Isabel’s face and if Christopher had been a more perceptive man, he would have noticed a hint of mischievousness in that grin and not simply the delight she intended. “Oh, I will do just that.”

D

Isabel squinted through the hazy sunlight, made brighter by the heaps of armor surrounding her. The mirror she stared into only reflected the light further and Isabel felt as though she were in a strange dreamland, instead of the royal blacksmith’s quarter in the corner of the palace. Unable to start the glare a moment longer, Isabel turned to her companions. Aurelia stood behind her wearing a similar breastplate, though hers was silver. Isabel glanced at the armor around her own middle and back up at Aurelia and the other three ladies, frowning.

“How does Your Majesty like the armor?” asked the blacksmith.

“It’s beautiful, but I though we would be wearing the same sort. My is gold where the others’ is silver.”

Duke Renaut cleared his throat. “It was my idea to have your armor made of gold, for you will be the commander of this troupe and as queen, require some distinction from the rest.”

“But the ancient female warriors all wore the same armor.” Isabel said. She had wanted to look the same as her ladies, to give their appearance as much accuracy as possible. For when the duke had first shown her the book on the ancient warriors, Isabel had fallen under the spell of the ancient women and the glory they attained. For reasons Isabel did not know, as she knew so little of her husband’s country and its traditions, the legends of the female warriors had fallen out of vogue. After hearing of the tournament, Isabel expressed to the few ladies she had taught to ride a desire to perform in the celebrations. But the ladies had not heard of these legends, not even Aurelia who had become a great source of knowledge for Isabel in the time since her coronation.

Even without knowing the legend, the ladies expressed great enthusiasm about the tournament and wished to display their new skills before the court. They were a bold group, young and without the reservations of advanced age, and so they eagerly agreed to Isabel’s plan and kept it secret from everyone. Aside from the riding ladies, only Angeline knew and only so that she could make excuses for the Isabel and the others when the snuck down to the armory. Renaut knew, of course, for he was in charge of the festivities and had inspired Isabel by providing the book of legends. But he owed no greater loyalty above Isabel, keeping their silence and assisting with their plans.

“That is true, my lady,” Renaut said. “But I think in our circumstances it will be better this way.”

Isabel did not question him further; she caught his meaning perfectly. And if the others did not, they said nothing. Everyone involved feared Christopher’s reaction to the clandestine escapade. Yet Isabel had every reason to expect no recourse from her husband – he had never been more affectionate and generous – and pressed on with the plan. She extended a hand toward the blacksmith. “Let me see the helmet.” The man handed her the helm and Isabel placed it onto her head without delay. Turning back to the mirror, Isabel observed the transformation she had undergone with the addition of the helmet. It was made of gold with the same elaborate etchings as her breastplate and a white plume than cascaded down from the back of her head. Stopping about an inch above her eyes, it hugged her skull and extended further down the back of her neck, but not so far that tilting her head backward caused discomfort. As it was not for battle or for jousting, the helmet left her face uncovered.

Isabel wanted the court and all of the spectators to see her clearly as she guided her horse over the jumps and through the elaborate formations she and her ladies had rehearsed. Everyone would know that see was queen here and that she would not be hindered by the silly traditions and etiquette of her mother-in-law’s court. As a princess in her own right and the wife of a king, Isabel wanted the court to see who was their queen so that it would never be mistaken.