Chapter Seventeen Part One

The sun was setting as they arrived just outside the gates to the palace.

Thomas and Charlotte paused at the center of the bustling marketplace, and he was forced, for now, to put aside his hurt and turn his attention to the matter at hand: getting them both in and out of the castle alive.

“Never did I think my life would depend upon the quality of forged documents,” Thomas whispered in her ear, as Charlotte reached into a bag on the side of Beau’s saddle and pulled out two sealed scrolls.

“Neither did I. Yet hopefully, Julien’s direction in the creation of these will be enough to get us in.”

“Then we only have to keep up the charade long enough…”

“Shhh, Thomas, someone may hear!” She handed him his scroll, and then carefully offered the sword in her possession.

“It grieves me to see you unarmed in this situation,” he said, reluctantly sheathing it and wrapping it in a blanket before placing it in a bag on his own horse’s saddle.

“No lady in waiting would be so armed, and besides, that was in case we were confronted by robbers in the forest on the way.” She reached out and took his hand, only briefly. “I’m going to be all right. We both are. We just have to believe our own story.”

“Better not delay then,” he replied, gently kissing her hand and lingering there before releasing it at last. “Because the longer we sit here, the less I believe in anything.”

“Onward,” she said. She moved Beau back into action and spurred him on, directly toward the guard station at the gates.

“Papers, please,” a small, round man requested, and Charlotte waited for Thomas to speak.

“I am called Michel, and this is my sister, Isabel. We are relations of the Queen, cousins, twice removed, and welcome members of her Court. We have been traveling for days in order to reach this place.”

The man analyzed their papers closely.

“Your purpose here?”

“My sister’s purpose is to serve as Lady in Waiting to the new queen. My purpose is to see she is safely installed in that position and then return home.”

“You travel without guard?” the man asked, suspicious. Charlotte fought the urge to bite her lip, a nervous gesture that surely would tip the odds against them.

Thomas leaned in closer to the man, nearly recoiling at his horrid breath. “After what happened to the King, it was thought a guard detail would draw more attention than two peasants riding through the woods, and making haste in their travels, would. This is why we appear as we do. We are traveling in disguise.”

“Your papers seem authentic,” the man said. Still, he hesitated. “Since Duke Frederick has taken over, everything has changed. Everything must now be directly approved by him.”

“Even admittance of invited guests of the Queen to the palace? For heaven’s sake, man, are you serious?” Thomas became righteously indignant. “If you doubt we have been so summoned, then I invite you to give our papers to the Queen’s personal guard and then to Her Highness, so she herself may approve our entry.”

“Take this as well,” Charlotte spoke up suddenly, sickened at the risk she was taking as she clutched another scroll in her hands. “It is a private message for the Queen from my mother; her cousin, Eleanor.” If that scroll fell into the wrong hands, their mission would end before it began.

“Very well,” the man said at last. “The Duke is currently not to be disturbed, and given the risk of upset to the Queen on top of all she has already suffered…” He nodded and waved over one of his underlings. “Take this inside and give it directly to Lady Agnes. See what word she brings back.”

“In the meanwhile, may we tie up and water the horses?” Thomas inquired. “They are old, and borrowed, and I do not wish to have to pay to replace them should they drop from exhaustion.”

“Ready for glue, if you ask me,” the guard replied, and Charlotte gasped, tightening her hands around Beau’s reins.

“Don’t you dare even suggest…” she mumbled, and Thomas coughed loudly to cover her words. He gave her a stern look. With hesitation, she released Beau into the custody of the nearest stable boy.

Before Thomas released Jacques as well, he removed the blanket-wrapped sword and unveiled it for the guard to examine. “A gift,” he explained. “For the Duke.”

“He is fond of gifts, or so I hear,” the guard said with a laugh. “Though he’d perhaps prefer the maid over the sword!”

Thomas almost gagged at the thought. He nodded weakly and put the sword away.

“Perhaps the Lady would like to take a seat over by the fountain,” the guard suggested. “She appears weary from travel.”

“She would not be so weary if you would but accept our papers and send us on our way. Then she could rest and begin her duties anew in the morning.”

“Would that I could, My Lord, but there is nothing I can do. You must wait.”

“Very well. I will escort her, please bring us word as soon as you are able. If we are forced to wait much longer I can assure you, the Queen will disapprove!”

He took Charlotte by the arm and led her over to the fountain.

“Now we wait,” he said, gesturing for her to sit down. She did as he silently instructed, and he sat down beside her. He was fidgety, though, and couldn’t seem to hold still.

“You had best get up if you can’t stand to sit beside me,” she whispered. “You will add to the suspicion that man has in his eyes every time he looks at us.”

“I wish I didn’t have to be near you at all right now, to be honest,” Thomas whispered back, more angrily than he had intended. The truth was his heart ached, and he felt like going off somewhere alone to give his emotions full reign and lick his wounds. But he could not do that now and wouldn’t be afforded the luxury for some time. He was stuck here, with the woman who now knew he loved her, and whom he now knew did not return his affection in kind.

He wanted to simply disappear.

“Would it help you if I said I was sorry?” Charlotte asked. He looked down at his boots.

“For the love of Heaven, whatever you say, do not, please, say that. The last thing I want is your pity.”

That is the second time a man has said that to me of late, thought Charlotte. “I could never pity you, Thomas, there is no earthly reason to. You are a fine man. Handsome and brave. Strong and kind. Any number of the women in our village who secretly nurse affections for you would be happy to…”

“What?”

“Half the maidens in the village pine for you, or have you never noticed them coming by the smithy for any tiny reason?”

“Lately, the only reason anyone comes by the smithy is to have their thin old wedding bands melted down into nothing,” Thomas said sadly. “In fact, the small fee Rowan charges for me melting down the metals is what saved his shop, and my small family cottage. He increased my pay because of the strain I’ve been under.”

“It hasn’t been easy, has it?”

“Would you find it easy to watch people weep as they see what little they had in this world melted down into liquid to become meaningless coins that will not be enough to save their homes?”

Charlotte now looked away.

“I thought not.”

“Would it be any easier for you to watch a man who has lost his father, his leg and eye, and his entire life in one day, writhing in pain before you, day after day, because you could not give him sufficient medicine to dull his agony, or he would die from it?”

Thomas looked at her sideways, then back at the ground. “Then it is pity you feel for him? For all he has been through?”

“No.” Charlotte was clear on that point, and she stood up. “I never said that. I just thought that, as a man who lost his father at an early age, you might.”

She sat back down and folded her hands. Her head throbbed, all of her sore from the rigors of the ride. All she wished for was a warm meal and soft bed, but doubted she would be afforded either tonight.

It only took her a moment to admit to herself that those were not the only things she longed for.

“You! Lord Michel, Lady Isabel!”

Charlotte’s head snapped up before Thomas’s did. “That’s us.” She rose, and waited for Thomas to lead the way back to the guard’s stand before following with her hands folded demurely behind her and her eyes on the ground.

“Her Majesty the Queen requests you join her in her private chambers. Immediately.” The man looked fearful, concerned he had erred on the side of caution and would now draw the wrath of their important guests. “I am sorry to have kept you waiting…” He paused, then leaned closer. “Please, assure Her Majesty it is only loyalty to her on the part of those of us at the gates, and concern for her safety, that keeps us vigilant against any possible threat.”

Interesting, Charlotte thought. So the Queen still has friends at the gates. And apparently, so do we… that is good to know.

“Think nothing of it, good sir, you were but doing your duty.” Thomas nodded to him and then escorted Charlotte past the iron gates. When they clanged shut behind, Charlotte felt a chill run through her, and wondered if she would ever again make it out of this place.

They were escorted through the palace doors, the same doors Charlotte had entered for the ball that seemed only a dream now, and surely was part of a world that existed, no more.

In the grand foyer, an elderly woman dressed in a gown of finest silk awaited them. Her expression was one of mixed emotions, and Charlotte could not easily read her. “Please, Your Lordship, and My Lady.” She nodded to each of them in turn, “If you would be kind enough to follow me, the Queen is most anxious to speak with you.”

Thomas still held the sword wrapped in the blanket beneath his arm, and was surprised the woman never questioned. But then, he supposed, it was not her place to question guests of the Queen, only to serve.

Through seemingly endless, grand hallways they were led, before the woman took them in through one set of doors to the library and out another. This struck Charlotte as odd and frightened her; but all she could do was follow as they were led toward a spiral staircase that looked more suited to the castle’s servants than to the royal family or guest quarters.

The Lady in Waiting observed the concern on Charlotte’s face and nodded to her once more. “We are nearly there. Worry not. This is the safest way.”

The safest way, Thomas thought. The Queen was, it seemed, already looking out for their welfare and they hadn’t realized it.

They reached an exit to a hallway that, again, appeared for the use of servants, and the Lady led them through another grand room, to another, all through connecting doorways. Finally they reached a vast parlor, and she gestured for them to sit and wait.

“Pardon, but we have been traveling far, and we are hardly fit to sit upon such fine furniture in our current state,” Charlotte begged softly, but the woman wouldn’t hear of it.

“I insist, please. You have traveled far and must be tired. The Queen has ordered food to be brought to her room, but it is for you. She felt it best, for now, if…”

“If no one else found out you were here.” Another voice spoke, and Thomas’s knees felt weak beneath him as he realized who it belonged to. “You may go, Lady Agnes. Remember, no one is to know we have guests.”

Lady Agnes bowed, then departed the room.

Both Charlotte and Thomas fell upon their knees.

“Your Majesty,” Thomas said softly, lowering his eyes to the floor before glancing up at her. “We are honored to be in your presence. Thank you for giving us an audience.”

“Stand, for the love of God, both of you stand. Tell me who you really are, and how you came to be in possession of THIS.” She held up the letter and waved it before them. She rushed forward, completely dismissing protocol in her desperation, and took hold of Charlotte by the shoulders. “Tell me, girl!” Tears filled her eyes and spilled, her voice became a whisper. “Does my son live?”

“He does,” Charlotte replied, gently, and, without thinking, reached up and brushed away the tear on the Queen’s face.