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She had been out hunting late Thursday, until well after dark, and she had fully intended to sleep in on Friday morning. But there was a knock at her bedroom door very early, before the sun had even come up. It was Lady Bianca Henderson, her old governess, and Elwyn felt a shiver of foreboding. “What is it?” she asked. “What’s happened now?”
“You’d better come with me,” said Lady Bianca. “There are soldiers, and the Duke of Severn, and the queen is arguing with them.” And indeed, Elwyn could now make out raised voices somewhere in the distance.
After quickly pulling on her dressing gown and slippers, she followed Lady Bianca over to the northeast corner parlor, which stood between the queen’s apartments and the nursery. The queen, likewise in her dressing gown and slippers, was glaring furiously at Duke Lukas, who stood at the head of a small squad of royal guards.
“Your majesty,” he said soothingly, “I do apologize, but we have our instructions from the privy council. I must insist that you and your family, including your son, Edwin, come down to the council chamber with us.”
“The king is still in bed,” said the queen, “and I’m not waking him up unless someone tells me why the privy council is meeting without his regent in the first place.”
“That’s part of the issue at hand,” said a low, gravelly voice, and Sir William Aitken stepped out of the shadows of the stairwell.
The sight of his pale, rat-like face made Elwyn shudder a bit. But she forced herself to look him in the eye, and Duke Lukas, too, as she said, “This is ridiculous. He’s just a boy. And the privy council has no authority to meet without the regent.” Elwyn assumed this was true, anyway. “The queen and I will go down as soon as we are dressed, and if you really need Edwin, one of us can come back up to get him.”
Sir William nodded curtly. “Her royal highness has a point.”
“Very well,” said the duke, “but you’ll have to come immediately. The council is waiting.” He gave her a vindictive little smirk as his eyes scanned Elwyn’s fuzzy pink dressing gown.
Downstairs, they made it halfway across the Palm Court, when they were intercepted by Sir Robert Tynsdale, the natural son of King Ethelred who had married Elwyn’s school friend, Alicia. He drew his sword and demanded to know where the queen and Elwyn were being taken.
“Put it away,” said Sir William. “Don’t be a fool.”
With evident reluctance, Tynsdale sheathed his sword, but then he knelt at Rohesia’s feet and begged her to accept his service and protection. Elwyn didn’t know whether to feel touched or to burst out laughing. But Rohesia, mistress of etiquette on all occasions, curtsied to him and said that she would be proud to accept him into her service. This little drama seemed to put the duke and his men off their stride, and Elwyn felt considerably more confident as she and Rohesia arrived in the council chamber, with Tynsdale at the queen’s elbow.
The council was all there—Duke Lukas being the last to take his seat—and they looked as if someone had just died. Rohesia opened her mouth, presumably to demand why this meeting was happening in such an irregular manner, but before she could speak, Baron Corbin asked, “Do you remember Lady Janet Follerberg, your majesty?”
“Naturally,” said Rohesia. “She was one of my ladies-in-waiting. She has, of course, been in Earstien’s Light for five years now. Why I could not be granted the time to dress before being asked a question to which everyone knows the answer, however, is something I fail to understand.”
Elwyn hadn’t known Lady Follerberg well—her tenure at court had coincided with Elwyn’s time at school—but she knew the woman had been very popular, and that she had tragically died in childbirth after leaving the queen’s service to get married. But she didn’t know much more than that.
Baron Corbin held out a well-worn old letter. “Is this her handwriting?”
What a ridiculous question. Who on earth could remember what someone’s handwriting looked like after five years? But Rohesia leaned in and examined the thin, elegant script all the same. Elwyn peered over her shoulder, and read:
Feb. 18, 347 M.E.
The physician tells me the birth may be difficult, and the preost says my soul will never find the Light if I die with a heavy conscience. So I am entrusting this story to a reliable friend, who will know when the time is—
The Baron pulled the letter away.
“I barely finished the opening sentence,” protested the queen.
“All in good time,” said the baron. “Is that Lady Follerberg’s handwriting?”
“I...well...I don’t know. It could be, but it’s impossible to say,” answered Rohesia. There were gasps from some of the council members, as if that forced, equivocal statement proved anything at all.
Rohesia’s uncle, the lord chancellor, said, “If you don’t mind, your majesty, I recall your mother telling me once that while your father was a diplomat in the Empire, and you were living in Terminium, you were quite friendly with Legate Servius Faustinus, the Immani hillichmagnar.”
Rohesia tilted her head to the side. “Well, yes. I was friends with a great many people in the Empire, as I’m sure you know. I still correspond regularly with my dear friend, Empress Vita, for example.”
“But what about Lord Faustinus?” the lord chancellor asked.
“Yes, I was friends with him. And I still consider him a friend. Why do you ask?”
Instead of answering the question, the lord chancellor fell back in his chair, mopping his brow with a handkerchief.
Duke Lukas spoke up. “Your majesty, do you recall the visits of Servius Faustinus to this castle? Specifically his lengthy visit in May of 343?”
Rohesia heaved a sigh. “Yes, I remember him visiting a number of times. But if you’re going to ask me about the details, we’d probably better get the Lord Chamberlain and the Master of Revels to look through their account books.”
“It’s not the way in which the legate was entertained in public that we’re concerned with,” said Lukas. “It’s the way in which...well, I beg your pardon, your majesty, but it’s the way in which he was entertained in private. By you.”
“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” said the queen, in a low, quavering voice.
Elwyn saw what it meant, and her jaw fell open. Her brother, Edwin, had been born in February, 344. Nine months after the legate’s visit.
“Forgive us, your majesty,” said Lady Jorunn Unset, “but the letter purporting to be from Lady Follerberg contains serious allegations about your conduct with Legate Faustinus. Allegations which, if they were true, would mean that our dearly departed King Edgar was not the father of your son. And that consequently, your son is not the king.”
Rohesia’s entire body began to tremble, and Elwyn thought she might be about to collapse in a tearful mess. But it turned out her shaking had nothing to do with nerves or sadness, but pure anger. “How dare you!” the queen hissed in a soft, hoarse whisper. “This is nothing but a desperately sick lie.”
The Earl of Hyrne came over to stand with his sister, and shot looks of vicious hatred at everyone else on the council, his temper far more out of control. “This is absurd,” he said. “The letter is obviously a forgery.” Flailing, he turned to Elwyn. “Tell them it’s not true!”
Suddenly put on the spot, Elwyn stammered, “Well...I mean, I was at school for most of that time.” And even if she hadn’t been, she had no idea what went on in her parents’ bedroom. “But anyway,” she went on, “I can’t believe it’s true. It’s contrary to everything we know of the queen’s character.”
Yes, Legate Faustinus was a very, very good-looking man, and reputedly a great lover, and he had been the subject of some of Elwyn’s most lurid schoolgirl fantasies. And he had once been a regular visitor to court, but then the war had gone badly, and he had seduced Lady Moira Darrow, one of the Myrcian court sorcerers, and run off with her. From what Elwyn had heard, his whole life was like that—like something out of a novel or a romantic song. But his character didn’t change that of Queen Rohesia.
Then Elwyn thought of how lovely the man was, and she thought of her brother. Edwin was a perfectly fine-looking boy, but he certainly didn’t promise to be devastatingly handsome. “You all saw my brother with my father,” she pointed out. “The resemblance was obvious, wasn’t it?”
That seemed to help a little, but then Duke Lukas said, “The prudent thing would be to conduct a thorough investigation.”
There was unanimous approval for this motion, even from the Earl of Hyrne, who shouted, “To once and for all clear my sister’s good name.”
“Possibly,” Duke Lukas went on. “In the meantime, it seems only right that we ask her majesty to step aside as regent until such time as the investigation is completed.”
The Earl of Hyrne completely lost his temper, and he stalked up and down the room, ranting and swearing at everyone. Sir Robert Tynsdale went to corral him and keep him from stabbing someone, which left Elwyn to comfort her stepmother, who had gone utterly pale as she stared at Cousin Broderick.
They held the vote, and just like that, Rohesia wasn’t the regent anymore. Duchess Flora (who had abstained) jumped up from the table and helped Elwyn take the queen upstairs. Lady Jorunn and Caedmon Aldred followed along, too, and when they entered the room, Rohesia whipped around and informed Lady Jorunn she was not welcome. With a few comforting words, Lord Caedmon left Lady Jorunn in the hall, while he saw Rohesia back to bed, where he whispered a sleeping spell over her.
Worse than any of this came when Elwyn had to explain what had happened to Edwin when he woke up. He was stunned and confused, and seemed very worried about his mother. But strangely enough, he didn’t immediately dismiss the letter’s accusation as ridiculous.
With an anxious look, he said, “What if it’s true? What if that’s why I couldn’t see anything in Finster’s Book?”
Elwyn gave him a hug and said, “It’s complete nonsense. Someone forged that letter. Your father was the king, and now you’re the king. That’s all there is to it.”
Her sister, Alice, was very upset, too, though she didn’t really understand what was going on. But her playmate, Jennifer Stansted, had come by to say that her father was sending her to Keelweard, where the earl apparently thought the girl would be safer. Alice didn’t see the deeper, more frightening significance of that fact—that the Earl of Stansted thought there was likely to be fighting in the capital soon. Alice was only sad about the sudden loss of her best friend.
Elwyn put on a bright, cheerful air and breezily assured her they would all see each other again soon. “I do hope we will,” she thought sadly, as Jennifer left the nursery. “But somehow I doubt it.”
At lunchtime, Elwyn wandered down to the ground floor of the castle, partly to find something to eat, and mostly to see what was going on. Groups of ladies stood in little clusters all around the Palm Court, whispering together. She didn’t even have to ask what they were talking about—it was obvious enough by the way they all fell silent whenever Elwyn got close enough to hear. Some of them looked stunned and sad, but a disturbing number of them seemed positively gleeful at the news. Rohesia had set very high standards for the personal conduct of ladies at court, and the thought that she was secretly a terrible hypocrite was very attractive to some people.
But it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. There was the problem of Edwin’s resemblance to their father for one. But even if Edwin had looked like a perfect little copy of Legate Faustinus, Elwyn wouldn’t have believed it. It defied belief that Rohesia could have done such a thing. No one who had met her could honestly think that she would. So now the only question was who had forged the letter.
She had a few guesses—her father’s dire warning about Cousin Broderick seemed prophetic now. Not that she had any proof, but she could easily see who stood to benefit from the queen’s fall.
At lunch, while Elwyn was finishing her solitary meal and glaring daggers at the gossiping women, Lady Bianca approached her. In a low voice, she said, “We need to talk.” Glancing around, she added, “Come with me out to the garden.”
Queen Maud’s Garden, named after the first queen of Myrcia, lay behind the palace, beyond the storerooms and the festival pavilion. Courtiers wandered the paths, enjoying the warmer, spring-like weather, but Bianca and Elwyn found a spot under the olive trees, well away from the others, where they could easily see anyone approaching.
“What’s wrong now?” Elwyn asked.
“I’m leaving Formacaster tonight, dear, and I want you to come with me.”
“Leaving?” Elwyn was shocked. “You can’t leave.”
“I can, and you should, too. If we can get your mother and your brother and sister to join us, we should. But we need to leave while we still can. We can go to Leornian, and the duke will—”
“You’re joking.” Elwyn crossed her arms. “We’re not leaving because someone slandered my stepmother.”
Lady Bianca stepped closer. “This isn’t simply an attempt to make the queen look bad, Elwyn. This is an accusation of high treason. If she is found guilty, she’ll be executed. And your little brother...,” she shuddered. “We need to get out of here.”
Elwyn glared at the woman who had been her teacher and best friend for years. She felt betrayed. She felt as if Lady Bianca had let her down—had let them all down.
“My brother is the King of Myrcia,” said Elwyn stiffly. “He will not be chased out of his palace by these feeble lies. And as long as he’s here, I’m staying, too. You can do whatever you want, Bianca, but you’ll be doing it alone. Goodbye.”
Then she turned and ran back to the palace, ignoring Lady Bianca’s fading pleas to wait.