Page 5

The Queen lowered herself into a seat before the fireplace as Mistress Bartree threw logs upon the blaze.

“Come and sit before me, Mistress Payne,” the Queen instructed.

“Make yourself comfortable by the fire.” Gunnilde made haste to comply, the Queen regarding her thoughtfully all the while.

“You are but lately come to court, I take it?” she said as her eyes roamed over Gunnilde’s face.

Gunnilde strove to hide her wince. “No, Your Majesty. I came to court in September as a guest of the Portstanley family. I was presented to you at the feast of St. Gyles...” Her words trailed off miserably, but after all, she had always known she must have made next to no impression.

“The Portstanleys,” Armenal repeated with a frown. “They are a cultured family, are they not, keen on enlightened thinking?” She did not sound particularly enthusiastic about the fact. “You are much in sympathy with such subjects? The arts, the sciences,” she enquired politely.

“Not really, Your Majesty,” Gunnilde admitted. “But the Portstanleys are intimate acquaintances of my best friend in all the world, Lady Eden Vawdrey.”

“Eden? She is the great friend of yours?” The Queen sat up in her seat. She made some gesture to her lady-in-waiting, and Mistress Bartree crossed the room to open a cupboard and extract three goblets.

“She is,” Gunnilde said fervently. “I am devoted to Eden.”

“And she to you?”

“I believe so, she has always been most kind and generous toward me.”

“You have been to stay with her at Vawdrey Keep?”

“Several times. I am godmother to her daughter, Agnes,” Gunnilde offered proudly.

The Queen nodded, as though finally accepting the veracity of her claims. “But how is it that your very good friend Eden, she did not present you to me herself?”

“She wanted to Your Majesty, but you see...”

“The child rearing,” the Queen decided with a sigh.

“Er...yes. And other commitments at home. A married lady’s life—”

“You need not tell me of this,” Armenal assured her with a wave of the hand. “I am lamentably familiar with the subject.” She looked up at Mistress Bartree’s approach with a tray of drinks. “I always caution you, Magnatrude, do I not, against taking such a foolhardy step?”

“You do, Your Majesty,” Mistress Bartree replied in a low, rich voice, and to her surprise, Gunnilde realized the older woman was not without attraction, though she could not imagine any man being so brave as to offer for Magnatrude Bartree.

The lady-in-waiting offered the contents of her tray first to the Queen and then to Gunnilde.

“They so very rarely listen,” Armenal sighed. “No matter how nicely they are set up. First Eden, then Jane... I daresay someone will try enticing Magnatrude away from me next, is that not so, Magnatrude?”

“Never, Your Majesty,” Mistress Bartree said fervently, then retreated to a seat a little further away from them to pour herself a cup of mead.

“Well, well, we shall see. I have all but lost faith in the loyalty of handmaidens,” she said bitterly. “Experience hath proved a cruel mistress.”

Gunnilde, unsure what else to say, took a swig of mead. It was good and sweet and warmed the cold pit of her stomach. She began to feel a bit better about the situation. Surely this was an honor, to sit in the Queen’s private sitting room and converse with her, practically just the two of them.

“And you?” Queen Armenal asked suddenly, almost making Gunnilde spill her drink. “What are your own marital prospects? You cannot be older than one and twenty I am sure.”

Gunnilde took a deep breath. “I am fully two and twenty, Your Majesty. But the truth is, I’ve decided against marriage after suffering a crushing disappointment in my youth.

” She paused to dab her eyes with her handkerchief and allow this momentous statement to sink in.

“No, I have decided that the role of sympathetic listener is mine. You will not know of this, Your Highness,” she said with quiet pride, “but I am in much demand to act as chaperone here at court. Many couples have need of my offices.”

“Is that so? You take the strolls down the long gallery dogging the steps of the courting couples?”

“I do.”

“And sit with them on the end of the bench, keeping the watchful eye as they converse?”

“Most readily, Your Highness.”

“And this does not bore you?” the Queen asked incredulously. “The role always of onlooker and friend to lovers?”

“Oh no, Your Majesty! I vastly prefer it.”

Queen Armenal’s eyebrows shot up. “Prefer it?”

“Yes, for that way, I will never risk jeopardizing my own feelings again.”

The Queen paused thoughtfully. “I see,” she said after a moment’s consideration. “Tell me of this misfortune you suffered in your...youth.” She and Magnatrude Bartree exchanged an amused look with one another. “For I find myself most interested.”

Almost without conscious effort, Gunnilde adopted a sorrowful expression.

It was a subject she was most comfortable discussing by now, for she had talked of it often and again.

“The tale is not an unusual one, Your Majesty,” she said modestly.

“Our fathers’ estates were neighboring, and there was an understanding of sorts that when we came of age, we would make a match of it.

Alas, his father died, and nothing came of it.

” She dabbed her eyes, though in truth, she had no more tears to shed over Arthur Conway.

“I see,” the Queen murmured. “He made you promises and played you false, the knave.”

Gunnilde’s eyes widened. “Oh no!” she objected.

“No, no, we were both young and the betrothal was never really spoken of all that much.

It was simply something that we quietly acknowledged whenever we happened upon each other.

Master Conway was always most agreeable in his manner, and I grew attached to the idea that we were destined for one another, that was all.

“Later on, his sister made an advantageous match, and it was agreed he could aim higher in his choice of bride.” She shrugged. “These things happen. I was embarrassed, and it was much discussed in our home county for a twelvemonth, until such talk happily died down.”

The Queen frowned. “You talk like a woman of sense regarding this,” she said slowly, “which only makes me more curious.” She shot a quizzical look at Gunnilde as though trying to puzzle something out.

“How so, Your Majesty?” Gunnilde set down her empty goblet. The Queen gestured at once for Magnatrude to refill it, and waited until this office was performed before she resumed her speech.

“You see, Gunnilde,” she said, “it makes me believe that your forswearing of husbands was not due to this youthful setback, for you took that quite in your stride.” She looked at her shrewdly.

“I believe there must be something you are not telling me, is that not so? Some later event of more significance, perhaps?”

Gunnilde was still basking in the fact that the Queen had addressed her by her given name when realization of her words hit. Her breath caught in her throat and her cheeks grew hot. “B-but how did Your Majesty—? No one else ever surmised as much!” she stammered.

Armenal’s expression became complacent. “I am considered reasonably astute in such matters,” she said with a self-satisfied smile.

“You see, much like yourself, I prefer to be the observer in life, but I have a good decade more of experience to draw upon. You must not reproach yourself,” she said kindly.

“It was inevitable that I should find you out in your lie.”

“Lie?” Gunnilde spluttered. “Nay, it was not that precisely.” She squirmed awkwardly in her seat. “It was more like...” Words failed her and she fell silent.

“An omission?” the Queen suggested lightly.

“Yes,” Gunnilde admitted. She could not quite meet the Queen’s eyes and nibbled unhappily on her bottom lip.

“You have spoken to no one of this event? Except perhaps your very good friend Eden Vawdrey.”

“Oh no! I could not possibly—that is, I did not tell even my dearest friend of it,” she answered guiltily. “I did not wish to—to burden her.”

“I see.” The Queen sat back in her chair, steepling her hands under her chin. “But you will tell to me now this significant event, will you not?”

Gunnilde raised appealing eyes to the Queen. “Oh, please, I—”

“Do not speak of it yet,” the Queen said, holding up her hand.

“I will even send away my good Magnatrude as a show of good faith between us.” She directed a glance at her lady-in-waiting, who rose at once from her seat and swiftly exited the room, shutting the door behind her.

“You see? Now...” Armenal leaned forward in her seat, her eyes gleaming. “Tell to me, please.”

And just like that, Gunnilde told. She was careful to switch the setting to her father’s house, and to leave the knights in question faceless strangers.

Wisely, she kept the substance of their conversation intact.

Because of this, she knew her words bore the ring of truth, for when repeating them, her voice rasped with emotion she could not falsify.

The fire crackled and the silence stretched as the Queen sat in deep contemplation, her eyes half-closed.

“Yes, now it all makes the perfect sense to me,” she murmured, then gave a dreamy sigh.

As though emerging from her contented ponderings, she straightened up and clicked her tongue.

“You have been through much, my poor Gunnilde. These knights they can be such swine.” She shuddered.

“So brutish. So coarse . They outrage every common decency. Never will I understand the women who are impressed by such men.”

Gunnilde’s expression wavered. “Well, er, I don’t know that I would say that precisely...”

“And those two knights you overheard describing you so unbecomingly that time... You are sure you could not hazard a guess as to who they were?”