Power & The Price

From the large, open doors of the Church of Execot, Princess Katherine stared down the nave and tried her best not to focus on all the faces, familiar and unfamiliar, that were looking her way from the pews. Her whole body felt stiff and staticky, having been dressed in heavy brocade from head to toe, cloth of gold to boot, and around her neck strapped a tie that held the tremendously heavy cloak on her shoulders, covered by her new livery collar.

She looked back over her shoulder, seeing the pair of women that held her cloak up from the ground as she entered, as well as the glint of her red hair laying on the ermine fur. On her left, Princess of Massouron Sophie de Chavanet. On her right, Princess of the North, Grace of Langley. Challengers and potential adversaries in another life, but now the women that helped Princess Katherine display her so-desired role as conciliating young Queen of Ilworth. At least, it was the role that the advisors had desired for her.

Princess Katherine was nineteen, not the heir many people wished for, not the heir that was educated to one day rule, and in fact, had taken the veil three years prior, and so the role of intelligent negotiator, apt steward, or warrior queen were not available to her during her ascension. What she lacked in skill, however, councilors quickly realized she made up in simple charm. Thus the narrative was born: Katherine, daughter of the good King Richard, sister of the ill-fated Prince Edward, and mother of the bastard Johanna de Serra — now to be Johanna of Courtenay — was to mend the troubled relationships her elders had made, through the use of her ample charisma.

Though the rumors during the ascension crisis were fierce and often true, and her challengers were cutthroat, the blessing of her late father was enough to at least get her to Execot, where she assumed, having seen the crown from a distance, that if her throat was slit on the way to Norbury Castle, at least she would have born the crown for a second.

All of the mumbles fell silent as the people stood up to pay respect to their new monarch. Katherine’s steps resounded as the only sounds in the entire building, though she herself heard the quickening beat of her heart and rhythm of her breath in tandem with it.

‘The Archbishop of Milden Cross!’ a man’s voice boomed from across the hall. Half a dozen red-robed men came into motion and walked to stand before the altar of the historic church, one of which carried the crown and halted in alignment with the nave.

Hesitantly she stepped forward, paying those standing by the pews no mind. Behind her cloak the nave filled up with officials, knights, councilors-to-be, and important members of the peerage, but before their steps could be heard, the silence was interrupted by trumpets. Katherine could not suppress her emotion and felt a smile creep up on her face as she made eye contact with the Archbishop.

A choir joined the trumpets in their tribute to this new era by the time Katherine reached the steps that led up to her eventual seat. She knelt down before the Archbishop and held her chin flat to her chest, her eyes closed in anticipation.

‘I here present unto you Katherine, your undoubted Queen,’ he hollered loudly enough for every person present to hear. He then presented the crown, inlaid with red velvet and many glittering gemstones, holding it up and turning from left to right to allow a rare gaze at the priceless treasure. By this point, Katherine had goosebumps all over her body and had clasped her hands together like in prayer. Once more, it was quiet.

‘Will you, Katherine of Courtenay, solemnly promise to protect and rule Ilworth and Otterdon Island, bring justice and peace to its plains and mountains, according to law and custom?’

A shiver slid over her spine and ribs like a hostile, cold touch. She knew the question was age-old, and had never been changed since the first Courtenay conquered the islands, and yet from the imposing deep voice of the archbishop, it felt personal and potently heavy.

‘I will,’ she said proudly.

‘And will you uphold our culture, our tradition, our God, and our dignity in the name of your ancestors and of your successors?’

‘I will,’ she repeated, her voice still unwavering and in fact becoming louder.

He inhaled deeply, causing her to look up at him. His eyes were dark and kind, not at all how she had pictured him from the tone of his voice. If only to break the tension a bit, when she had caught his gaze, she winked and grinned. The aged archbishop continued.

‘Will you shield us and lead us in times of hardship and war, with noble heart and a clear compass of morality?’

‘I will. All this I swear are my duties. I shall keep my word to serve the people, so help me, God.’

‘God crown you in honor and righteousness, may you keep His commandments and act in great courage and strength,’ the archbishop then hollered. ‘God save the Queen!’

She looked down again when she stood up, and took her seat on the coronation chair when the archbishop stepped aside. The view was breathtaking. From the slight elevation, the sheer depth of the church was dizzying, and from the large open doors, a whole crowd of people were visible outside.

The archbishop padded over to her, the crown in his hands, and placed it on her head, adjusting it after placing it in order to firmly attach it. Katherine felt herself sink into the chair from the weight, and when other officials gave her the sceptre and orb to hold, she felt that there was nothing else for her to do, nothing else to think about, except the nature of her people and her duties to them. Even those grandiose duties, the burden to care for more than a million people, did not sour her mood.

The choir resumed, starting with the national anthem. She vacantly looked out over the hundreds of attendees, from near and far, and felt herself becoming less Princess Katherine, and more Queen Katherine right then and there. Absentmindedly she sang along, not realizing the entire crowd sang as well, including the archbishop who stood by her.

When the music waned and the knights began to march back out, Katherine herself stood up as well and only then felt how tense her body had been upon that golden chair. She straightened herself, balancing the crown on her head, and swiftly two velvet pillows appeared before her to place the sceptre and orb back on, now clammy with the heat of her palms. With her feet firmly on the velvet carpeting, Katherine knew she would never be the same woman that walked into the Church of Execot.

Confidently she strode down the steps, making eye contact with as many guests, who were all now curtsying and bowing before her, and as Sophie and Grace took their positions at the tail end of her cloak again, she smiled at the January sun that streamed in from the open doors, where a crowd of people awaited her.

Once she was out, the full extent of the crowd became apparent to her. The church was slightly raised compared to its lower-lying town centre opposite it. As far as the eye could see, gathered up to the alleyways that connected with the square, people were standing. Only a small space had been left by the guardsmen for Katherine to pass through in order to reach her carriage to Norbury Castle. They were cheering, and in the complete chaos Katherine felt, she forgot to exchange glances with them and respond to their congratulations like she had imagined she would.

Her secretary of state caught up with her by the time she reached the carriage and lay a hand over her shoulder.

‘Marvelous, Katherine!’ he hollered, getting into the coach after her.

Her new secretary of state was a middle-aged man with white hair, who had served her father before her. He was wearing the Courtenay house colours, blue and purple, and on his head perched a small coronet to signify his rank as Duke of Overleigh. Though his peers called him Lord Overleigh first and foremost, his name was Cuthbert Harcourt.

As the door closed after them and they had both taken their seat, Katherine took off her crown and sighed.

‘And?’ he asked her giddily. ‘How does it feel?’

Katherine looked from beneath her brows mischievously. ‘What’s there to say, Harcourt? They love me out there. And I think you will find that when we return to Norbury Castle, your fellow dukes will be quite smitten too.’

He huffed and imitated the stoic confidence he had seen her command on the coronation chair. ‘Very convincing. Precisely what all of us needed in this uncertain time. Someone with a bit of charm. Besides, I’ve yet to bestow my gift upon you before all my peers do. I imagine I’ll be the only one who won’t also drop in his portrait.’

He took a small parcel from beside him and handed it over, wrapped in printed paper. ‘You shouldn’t have,’ she said at first, but still began to unwrap it.

The inside of the card paper was brilliant purple, and inside its wrap was a small box that Katherine wedged open with her nails. In it lay a delicate velvet cushion, upon which lay a signet ring. She grinned happily.

‘How sweet of you,’ she said as she exchanged one of the rings on her finger with it. ‘What a darling little gift.’

‘I thought to myself, given that I’ve seen a few of your suitors in the flesh: we should all make sure that Her Majesty knows who her first love is,’ he said. ‘The people of Ilworth and Otterdon Island.’

She clicked her tongue. ‘You speak like my father.’

Harcourt gazed at her wisely. ‘I intend to speak for your father, given he has left us prematurely. Someone has to keep a rowdy young queen from doing anything unspeakable.’

Silently she cast her gaze downward, playing with the signet ring between her fingers.

Katherine quickly realised once on the throne that Harcourt had not led her astray. The dukes of her country, even the ones not present at her coronation, had brought her gifts, and alongside those gifts, their portraits or those of their sons for Katherine’s deliberation for her hand in marriage. The gifts themselves were plentiful to the degree that even Harcourt and his trusted colleague Dorothy Abell, the treasurer, were surprised. There had been horses, jewelry, bolts of brocade, dried and fresh flowers, silverware, porcelain, shoes, and an entire carriage thrown into the pit of the Ilworthian treasury.

Even through the festivity that it was for Katherine to sit on her throne and receive lavish gifts, there was some anxiety that crept up in her. The throne room was near the ballroom, and the music had already started. Hearing a happy crowd riled up with music and wine made her feel antsy to be away from. Besides, the Duke of Dolcotshire had not yet appeared.

She worried he would never come. Dolcotshire was the duchy that was home to the convent she lived at the three years directly preceding her coronation, and the stories that made the rounds in the higher echelons of Dolcotshire politics were not for the faint-hearted. According to the rumours, Katherine had fled on multiple occasions, had slept with knights, been spotted in lowly taverns, and swam in the river at night, when only highwaymen and vagabonds could report it. Worst of all was the fact that all of these rumours were absolute truth.

Just as she was meaning to get up, she heard footsteps in the hallway again, and one of the guardsmen that had entered alongside a fur-clad duke announced him: ‘Lord Gregory Vale, Duke of Dolcotshire!’

She was unsure whether to feel relieved or concerned. There was no way he could embarrass her, and she realised so, but still coming face to face with a man who knew too much about her made her uneasy. None of this showed, however. Instead she folded her hands over one another and smiled pleasantly.

‘My host,’ she said placidly, and extended her hand for him to take and kiss the rings.

‘My liege,’ he returned. ‘Your Majesty. I come bearing gifts.’

She let her eyes glide over his face, and then over his head towards the half dozen knights he had brought to accompany and guard him. Her eyes glided over their faces, dressed in becoming hats, and was relieved to find none of them rung a bell to her.

‘You really ought not have,’ Katherine said for the umpteenth time that day. ‘It is a fine enough gift to be the lady and protector of loyal vassals such as yourself.’

He exhaled sharply. ‘It is no burden upon myself to prove this loyalty, please,’ he said, and signaled to the door, where another pair of knights stood, one carrying the leash of a brilliantly white shepherd dog with an exquisitely bejeweled collar. Whatever impression it left on Katherine was however quickly overshadowed, considering the man who held the leash was not just familiar to her, but she had missed him immensely.

‘What a thoughtful gift,’ Katherine said, trying not to be distracted. ‘A hunting dog, I assume…’

Gregory guided his knight towards the throne in order to show the dog to her, the dog in question wagging his tail in anticipation of affection.

‘Say,’ Katherine said, much more to the knight than Gregory himself, ‘I wonder if you’ve any accommodations the coming days. I know like no other Dolcotshire is far from this place. I’d hate to see you lot uncomfortable.’

‘Oh, Your Majesty,’ Gregory said. ‘We have booked The Aere in full.’

‘The Aere…’ Katherine responded, letting the word percolate in her mouth, then leaned over to Harcourt. ‘Is that considered a good establishment?’

‘Well, I am sure, Your Majesty, it will befit the Duke and his men,’ Harcourt said, his arms behind his back.

She raised her chin as she listened, intermittently gazing out onto her former host, the Duke of Dolcotshire, as well as his knights. ‘What a shame — I was planning on returning the favour of hosting by offering you and your knights a night within the castle walls. Of course for the grandiose favour of hosting me for as long as necessary. I think of the abbess often.’

‘And the abbess speaks of you often,’ Gregory said with a nod. ‘Your Majesty. It would be an honour…’

Katherine changed before tending to the party, exchanging the heavy furs and brocades for a shimmering cobalt blue gown of taffeta of which the hem rose to her ankles of ease of movement. She was grinning from ear to ear when she strode into the ballroom alone, a goblet in her hand, and watched as all eyes gradually drew to her.

It was far more crowded than she had assumed. Surely five-hundred invitations seemed plentiful, but to see hundreds of people crowded in the ballroom, in the yard, and walking about, it felt far more prestigious than what Katherine had initially assumed. She scanned the room for familiar faces and noticed the desperation in the eyes of some of the party-goers though nobody dared to approach her just yet. The band, when they noticed the crowd reducing to a whisper, held their hands off of their strings.

Harcourt too made his way from the crowd and hurried to a bit of scaffolding towards the mantle, where he reached his hand into the air and hollered: ‘Announcing the Queen of Ilworth and Otterdon Island, Katherine of Courtenay!’

She stepped up happily, taking Harcourt’s hand to help steady herself, and nodded gratefully at her secretary of state’s service.

‘Thank you,’ she said under her breath. ‘I’ll take it from here.’

‘Everyone…’ she then declared happily and rose her goblet. ‘Or I should say: my dearest subjects. What an honour it is to face you as such.’

It was quiet when she was not speaking, and only when she took a small pause, did she realize the dizzying effect this had on her. She had studied a speech, of course, but the words ceased to come to her that second, seeing the people in the crowd that had opposed her succession.

‘The role I have within my country is that of the firekeeper at the fireplace in the great hall,’ she suddenly recalled. ‘I swear to meticulously tend to the fire, not fear for a little burn here and there on my hands, to always serve the fire and never let it burn out or wither, so that all of you may be warmed by it as long as I live. It delights me to tell you that I have inherited a lively, high, sweltering fireplace, and I promise to deliver it to my eventual heir as fiercely as it has come to me.’

Katherine scraped her throat. ‘It has appeared to me that I was often overlooked as successor by those who knew very little of me. Of course, my detractors will say, I was not the firstborn and therefore, by definition, a spare. I cannot deny these facts, and if I could, I would not choose to, for it is after all God who had chosen me for the Ilworthian throne. I will not bow beneath these men and women who say they know better than God who should be crowned, and instead I suggest they too find themselves in His good grace.

‘Good people… under my rule I shall aim to put to rest the Otterdon faction seeking their independence. Despite our warm relations, you may know of me that as a Courtenay, I do not recognise the Langleys as rightful heirs to the Otterdon throne. Lord Francis and Lady Grace, my dear friends who bear the title of Prince and Princess of the North, will remain so without land. My claim on the Massouric throne will, too, remain unclaimed. I aim to build bridges where I can, strengthen alliances, leave our children with a better Ilworth than we were left by our elders. Calmer, more prosperous, with more towns and cities, thriving ports, and rich culture. For all this and more, I am very pleased to see a crowd before me of talented, intelligent, and pure-hearted vassals, close alliances, and noble councilors. I wish all of you a wondrous night.’

There was an applause brought on by Harcourt, and the moment she felt as though she would not be heard, she gasped for air and sighed. This had been the culmination of all that she had done until then — now all there was left was to enjoy the fruits of it.

She stepped down and took the last swig from the goblet in order to calm the burgeoning nerves now she saw people approach. Harcourt was her first line of defense, speaking to everyone coming her way, but of course it was unseemly for a monarch not to speak themselves. Katherine marched out of the busiest part of the room and towards the windows, where she took another beverage from a servant and scanned the great hall.

Suddenly her eye fell again on Duke Gregory, some of his most decorated men walking among him, but not everyone seemed to have come. The knight who had held the leash, the one she was so desperately hoping to see, was unfortunately not among them. She sighed.

‘Lady Katherine,’ she heard suddenly from behind her, Harcourt’s excited voice. ‘I need to introduce you to my wife’s administrator.’

She looked over her shoulder and saw him walking towards her with two others: Katherine’s aunt Lettice of Courtenay, Harcourt’s wife, and a mysteriously dressed man perhaps in his forties, with shoulder-length brown hair tied in the nape of his neck, and a sleek black court suit complete with red stockings and paned sleeves.

‘Your Majesty,’ he said with a bow.

Lettice lay a hand on her niece’s shoulder. ‘Katherine… you were marvelous up there. Did Bertie write that for you?’

Katherine bowed softly before them and looked up at Lettice. ‘Well, Cuthbert and I together. There were a few things I wished to say, and I believe together we managed to get it all out. It’s been too long, hasn’t it? You’ve never met Johanna, I take it, it’s been that long…’

Lettice’s face crimped at the suggestion. Johanna. A bastard, and with a bit of luck, Katherine could even include her in the line of succession. ‘I am sure in due time our paths will cross,’ she said placidly. ‘Have you met the beating heart of my court, Lord William Lennard?’

Katherine shook her head. ‘I’ve been far from Gartham for too long. How do you do, Lord William?’

His face had a pleasant openness to it, and his hands were on his back. ‘I am well, Your Majesty. My, we’ve been blessed as a country with a queen as radiant and fierce as you. My expectations are high after seeing you so high-spirited. No pressure, of course.’

‘We will try to put some actions to the promises rather soon,’ Harcourt said. ‘Your home court of Gartham might become a little bit emptier now, given that I’ll be back in Norbury Castle for the forseeable future.’

William smiled slyly. ‘Lady Lettice and I can amuse ourselves, as you well know.’

Harcourt’s smile faded. ‘Indeed…’

The party carried on from the late afternoon into the evening, and Katherine had been dancing ever since Harcourt had ceased finding other undoubtedly incredibly important figures for her to socialise with. Each one of the dukes who had sent in his portrait, from Far Water in the north to Milden Cross in the south, with the exception of Dolcotshire, wished for a volta or a pavane with the Queen, and who was she, unmarried and as of yet without a legitimate heir, to refuse?

It was a few goblets of red wine down, and numerous mixers and couple dances to boot, that yet another man came to her, but bowed very deeply before her, and wore no coronet or other signifier of his status. When he rose again, Katherine all but jumped from excitement.

Henry.

‘Where were you?’ Katherine asked with a gasp. ‘I was looking for you all evening!’

Henry clicked his tongue. ‘Your Majesty.’

‘Stop that nonsense right now,’ she whispered through the crowd. ‘How did you keep a straight face when you gave me that hound?’

He raised his dark, bushy brows. ‘What’s the matter? You hadn’t expected me to come with Gregory? I’ll have you know I’m his champion…’

‘You told me all about it when someone put a lance through your arm and we had to endure your endless moaning in the convent,’ she said. ‘I do recall.’

‘You know what I’m about to say, right?’ he asked with a chuckle.

Katherine pursed her lips and felt the urge to chuckle at the insinuation. ‘That it’s mutual,’ she said at last. ‘We’ve both had to endure each other’s moaning.’

‘Right,’ Henry said, and put his hand through his black hair.

Whenever Katherine looked into Henry’s dark eyes, they reminded her of the endless days in Dolcotshire, where she would use the garden’s ladder to climb over the fence, and on the other side, he would be waiting for her, generally just with a drink and a bite, though occasionally on his horse, to whisk her away into the wild forests in the area for just long enough to not rouse much suspicion. The abbess knew, Katherine had been told off for it a million times, but being the princess, there was no serious punishment for her.

How different it all was in that ballroom in Norbury Castle. Katherine shook her head.

‘You know, I’ll miss you when you return home,’ Katherine said dryly.

‘And I you,’ Henry said, crossing his arms before him. ‘Maybe if I’m granted a piece of land around these parts, you can buy my fealty...’

A grin crawled up on her small mouth. ‘What a horrific thing to say,’ she said with a chuckle. ‘You know I’d give you Stansby and Astwick in a heartbeat, right?’

He leaned in and quickly touched her shoulder, but withdrew the very same moment, suspicious already to be seen in her presence for so long. ‘You can just say you’ve swayed me with your divine charm and diplomatic efforts. I’m happy to stay anyway.’

‘Your Majesty?’ Dorothy hollered as she approached. ‘Sorry about the interruption, the Queen of Massouron just arrived and she wishes for Your Majesty to come outside so you may admire the beautiful carriages that she has purchased for you. Her son has brought quite the gift as well…’

Katherine turned, and Henry made a swift exit in order not to have to identify himself — she considered that Henry had perhaps not been invited even under the guise of Gregory Vale’s champion. ‘Oh,’ Katherine said. ‘Tell Queen Louise I’ll be coming right up.’

Dorothy’s mouth twitched. ‘Who was that, Lady Katherine?’ she whispered.

She blinked blankly. ‘One of the Duke of Dolcotshire’s knights, Dorothy. He and I have crossed paths before — I healed his arm when I lived at the convent. He’s thinking of professing fealty to the crown instead of the duke.’

Dorothy cackled. ‘Don’t tell Gregory about that, he won’t feel as high and mighty about housing you for three years if it turns out all of his knights have begun feeling more loyal to the Queen of Ilworth.’

‘He jousts,’ Katherine said, feeling relief that a story so true to reality could still appease her advisor, ‘I think he’s doing it for the quality of the equipment. Dolcotshire is a fine province — much finer when you do not wear armor purchased in Dolcotshire.’

Katherine placed her hands behind her back and walked along with Dorothy, hoping that this was the last gift she would have to gracefully receive, the last prestigious guest to walk on eggshells with, and hopefully soon the last song she would hear from the band before she was allowed, after a long day, to withdraw into her new bedchamber in Norbury Castle, where she now lived.