Genevieve followed her husband on horseback, trying to think of ways to kill him, even as they both headed south in the direction of the king. She could see him ahead, his horse a target that was easy to follow as they both continued down the road.
“If I can get close, I can strangle him,” she said, but even as she whispered it to her horse, Genevieve knew it was nonsense. She’d already discovered that she simply didn’t have it in her to kill Altfor, not by herself.
“I could poison him,” Genevieve said to the horse. “But then, where would I get poison?”
Unsurprisingly, she got no reply from her mount. As a conspirator, it had the advantage that it would never tell her secrets, but it wasn’t exactly contributing to the plotting. Instead, it trotted on under her the same way that it had ever since leaving the inn, apparently oblivious to anything around them. Certainly, it didn’t seem to care that Genevieve was plotting murder upon its back.
“I’ve tried setting people on him,” Genevieve said. “And that just got them killed. Say what you like, but Altfor can fight.”
What else did that leave? Buy a bow and shoot him? Even if Genevieve had possessed the skills to use one, it ran into the same problem as the dagger. Set up a rock fall and wait until Altfor rode through it? The land this far south was almost depressingly flat, and anyway, it would mean getting ahead of her so-called husband.
As far as Genevieve could see, her only real option was to keep riding until she and Altfor reached wherever it was he was going. She kept riding behind him, mile after mile, making sure that he never quite left her sight. Genevieve didn’t trust Altfor not to spot her and try to arrange some kind of ambush for her if he realized that he was being followed.
He didn’t seem to look back though, being more concerned either with his escape or with the prospects of where he was going. Genevieve could guess where that might be by now: Altfor’s only hope of power again was to get to King Carris and make a claim for the king’s help.
The only thing Genevieve couldn’t work out was why Altfor thought that it would be successful. Did he think that nobles were somehow more generous and charitable toward their own than they were to the common folk? Did he think King Carris would see asking for help as anything other than weakness?
The answer came to Genevieve as she rode along: the king would help, because he couldn’t be seen not to do so. A king who abandoned one lord would not be able to count on support from his others, and in any case, Altfor would make a useful figurehead for whatever action he took to try to put down Royce’s rebellion. Put like that, Altfor was almost doing the sensible thing. Genevieve wondered if he knew what he was doing.
“Probably not,” she told her horse. That was unfair though. Altfor was evil, but he wasn’t stupid. His brother had been a thug, but Altfor was clever, and had been able to keep most of his father’s lands under control until Royce had found ways to rise up. Maybe Altfor had worked out what he needed to do.
Either way, he would be dangerous.
Genevieve continued to contemplate her options as Altfor rode on past villages and over bridges, covering the open countryside without stopping. Genevieve was surprised to find how smooth the journey was now, because she had been half expecting problems with bandits or worse. Perhaps they were all scared off by Altfor’s tight grip on his sword as he rode, or perhaps it had more to do with the part where King Carris was coming north.
Away in the distance, Genevieve saw the smoke from cooking fires, and picked out the shape of a lord’s keep at the heart of them all. It seemed that Altfor had seen it all too, because he urged his horse forward.
“We have to get there first,” Genevieve whispered to hers, before urging it off the road, heading cross country. She rode as hard as she dared, feeling the horse’s muscles bunch and release under her as it galloped. Where she came to a hedgerow, she leapt it, her horse knowing how to jump even if she wasn’t the rider to push it to do so.
She couldn’t afford to be left on the outside for this, so Genevieve rode as hard as she could, until the tents around the keep came into sight, with the wagons and the horses, looking like an army was laying siege to the place. Except it wasn’t laying siege, it was simply gathering, and this was King Carris’s court settling in around the castle and preparing.
Genevieve rode down to the encampment, and because it wasn’t a military one yet, she was able to enter it easily. Looking around, it was like a whole city there, with merchants and workers, traveling innkeepers and “companions” for the courtiers when they weren’t with their wives. Genevieve picked her way through it all, tethering her horse in a spot where she would be able to get back to it if all of this went wrong, she hoped.
She headed for the gates to the keep, both because that was where King Carris would be, and because she knew her husband. Altfor would never try to find a spot in the camp when he could insist on the finest rooms in the castle.
Sure enough, as Genevieve approached, she heard Altfor’s voice raised in argument.
“And I’m telling you that I am a duke, and have every right to see the king!” Altfor said.
“Not when it’s not open court,” a guardsman said. He hesitated just long enough for it to be insulting. “My lord.”
“The correct term of address is ‘your grace,’” Genevieve said, stepping from the shadows of the surrounding tents and walking forward with a confidence she did not feel.
Altfor turned to stare at her, open-mouthed. “You…”
“Husband,” Genevieve said, “have you not managed to gain us entrance to see the king yet?”
“What are you doing here?” Altfor demanded.
Genevieve made herself smile, in spite of the hatred she felt for him. “I rode as fast as I could to be with you for this. I thought that after everything that had happened, you would be glad of your wife’s presence.”
Ignoring Altfor, she turned to the guards. It was the best way to establish herself, and her power, in this situation. Have the king recognize who she was, and Altfor wouldn’t be able to do anything about her. The prohibition against hurting noblewomen would be her shield again.
“What exactly is the problem?” Genevieve asked them.
“Forgive me, my lady,” one of the men said, “but King Carris is in the middle of other business, and will have no time to hear others.”
“Perhaps we can wait then,” Genevieve said. It felt strange, getting Altfor what he wanted like this, but it meant that she was at least partly in control of it. “It really is very important that we see the king.”
The guards hesitated for a moment, but then the one who had been speaking nodded. “Very well, my lady. Go in, and perhaps the king will speak with you. But I should warn you, it will not be… pleasant.”
They opened the doors to let her and Altfor in. A servant was there to lead the way to the king, and Genevieve was grateful for that too. She didn’t want to be alone with Altfor just then.
The servant led the way to an inner courtyard, and even before she got there, Genevieve could hear the screams. When the servant opened the door there, Genevieve almost cried out at the horror of what she saw.
There were men and women strapped to devices that ranged from racks to breaking wheels, each accompanied by a guard or torturer. A tall, cranelike man Genevieve took to be King Carris was moving between them, a knife in his hand. Genevieve could see that he was enjoying what he was doing. A cage toward the back held a cluster of young women not much older than herself.
King Carris turned as she and Altfor entered, and the look on his face was something so bestial that Genevieve had to fight the urge to run.
“Who are you that you dare to interrupt me?” he demanded.
“I am Altfor,” her husband managed before Genevieve could speak. “I am the son of the duke whose lands were usurped by Earl Undine, with the aid of a man who styles himself as the ‘true king,’ a boy called Royce.”
“I am the true king!” King Carris said. “As these peasants are learning. Do you know that they refused to hand over their grain to supply my army? Now it will cost them everything, as an example!”
“Most wise, my king,” Altfor said, with a sweeping bow.
Genevieve took her cue from him on this and curtseyed, her face lowered. It meant that she didn’t have to keep her disgust at what was happening here from her expression until she straightened up.
“And you?” King Carris, with a look at Genevieve that said he would happily throw her in amongst the rest of the young women there.
“I am Genevieve, Duke Altfor’s wife, my king,” Genevieve said. “We were hoping to speak with you about the situation in the north.”
“I am well aware of the situation,” King Carris said, waving a hand dismissively. “Welcome, Lady Genevieve, Duke Altfor. We will speak later, after I am finished here. There are still traitors to execute, and their daughters to distribute among my men.”
He picked up the knife again, and Genevieve hurried from the room. She was hurrying so much that for a moment she forgot that Altfor was there with her. She quickly remembered, though, when he grabbed hold of her, pressing her back against the wall with his forearm across her throat, cutting off the air.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded. “Why shouldn’t I kill you where you stand?”
“Because…” Genevieve pushed his arm away just enough to answer. “Because I’m your wife, and the law…”
“You think I care about the law now?” Altfor snarled with the kind of fury Genevieve knew all too well from him. “I’ll claim that I caught you in an affair, and have you put under the headsman’s axe!”
That brought anger rising in Genevieve, partly because of the threat, and partly because of the sheer double standard involved. Noblemen like Altfor could do as they wished, take girls from villages as they wished, and sleep with any number of whores, courtesans, or others. Yet she, who was supposedly also noble by marriage, could be killed just on Altfor’s lies?
In a lot of ways, it didn’t surprise her. After all, she’d seen the man now who sat at the head of this whole rotten system. It scared her though, because what she’d thought would be her protection was now gone.
“I’m going to enjoy watching you die,” Altfor said.
“If you do, then your child dies with me,” Genevieve said.
That made Altfor pause. “You’re lying.”
Genevieve smiled then, because she knew that she had him. “I’m carrying your child. You married me, you slept with me, and now I’m pregnant with your baby.”
“You’re…” Altfor’s whole demeanor seemed to change in an instant. “How do I know that you’re not lying to me? How do I know that the child is mine? That you’re even pregnant?”
“I’m pregnant,” Genevieve said. “And you are the only man I’ve slept with, whatever you might think. I’m not going to pretend that I like you, Altfor, but we are bound together by this.”
“You can give me an heir,” Altfor said, looking thoughtful. Suddenly, sharply, he grabbed hold of Genevieve’s wrist.
“What are you doing?” Genevieve demanded.
“Do you think that I’m going to take you at your word?” he demanded. “This castle will have an apothecary or a wise woman somewhere. Then we’ll see if you’re everything you say you are.”
They searched, and Genevieve went along with the search because it seemed like the best way to give herself some measure of control in this situation. They found the apothecary on one of the upper floors of the castle, the man rushing about in stained dark robes, moving between steaming pots of herbs and burning plates of powders.
“I’ve no time!” the man said. “Whatever it is, I’ve no time. I’ve a whole encampment full of knights with training wounds, and courtesans seeking love philters, and—”
“And despite that, you will make time for us,” Altfor said. He had his hand on a dagger’s hilt.
“Ah, yes, of course,” the apothecary said. He gestured to a bench that had probably once been quite grand. “And what can I do for you both?”
“My wife claims that she is pregnant,” Altfor said. “Is there a way to determine that for certain?”
“Why yes, of course,” the apothecary said. “And my methods are far more precise than those of the so-called wise women of the villages. I can determine the size of the child, and its sex, its likely luck in all games of chance, and—”
“You can determine the sex?” Altfor said, cutting the man off. Just from the tone of his voice, Genevieve knew that things had just turned dangerous for her. “Do it.”
“Then please come this way, my lady,” the apothecary said to Genevieve. “You will need to disrobe behind this screen.”
The examination that followed was thorough and utterly humiliating. The apothecary prodded and examined her in ways that made Genevieve want to shrink away or strike him. Even so, she forced herself to hold still, to show no sign of the emotions roiling within her, until at last the man was done.
“Thank you, my lady. You may clothe yourself, and I will have the results of my examination for you in a few minutes.”
Genevieve went back to Altfor. “Why do you want to know the sex so desperately?” she demanded.
“It’s very simple,” he said. “You’re pregnant? Well, that’s only useful to me so long as the child can be an heir to me. With that, I can show the king that my line can continue in the lands he will help me reclaim. A daughter is no use.”
“No use?” Genevieve said.
“Daughters are for marrying to other nobles, and I have no lands to offer. A daughter is a hindrance. And if she’s no use, neither are you. Give me a son, and you can live as my wife. Give me a girl and there’s no reason not to say that the child is Royce’s. I will be forced to execute you as a traitor, and the king will see my devotion to his cause.”
Altfor said it all so coldly that it was hard to believe that anyone could think like that. Genevieve knew her husband could, though. She started to wish that she’d had it in her to simply stab Altfor when she’d had the chance. She found herself looking around at all the powders and potions. Would any of them be poisonous? Could she find a way to persuade Altfor to drink one of them?
The thoughts raced around her mind, mostly as a way to try to shield her from the fear. She’d come here thinking that she would be safe, yet now she felt anything but safe. She was helpless, trapped in a room with Altfor, in a castle full of people who would help to kill her almost as soon as her husband gave the order. Or worse. Genevieve found herself thinking about King Carris, and what he might do to her if he claimed the chance to execute her himself…
“I have determined my results,” the apothecary said, returning with a vial of something in his hand and staring at it. “I can confirm that you are indeed with child, my lady, congratulations.”
Perhaps another noble couple would have reacted with joy right then, but Genevieve and Altfor both sat staring at the apothecary. Altfor had an almost hungry look as he waited for more, while Genevieve sat in fear, trying to work out what to do if this all went wrong and realizing that there was nothing she could do.
“What about the sex of the child?” Altfor asked.
“Ah yes,” the apothecary said, sounding less certain than he had when he’d been making promises before. Perhaps he’d realized what he was dealing with now. “Well, taking into account various physiological factors, and the way that your lady wife’s blood—”
“Will the child be a boy or a girl?” Altfor all but snarled.
“A boy, my lord,” the apothecary said, and Genevieve almost collapsed with relief. “I believe that you will have a boy.”