THE MISTRESS
1
The soldiers arrived shortly before sunrise. They had ridden hard through the short summer night to cover the distance from the palace to the small estate on the edge of the royal forest, and now they found it dark and silent in a deep sleep. The single man on watch duty immediately laid down his weapons when he recognised Sir Edmund, the commander of the royal guard, a veteran of countless battles, corpulent with age but still highly respected. Sir Edmund ordered his men to round up the few servants in the courtyard and entered the building alone through the main entrance. He had escorted his king many times on visits to his mistress and had been here overnight often enough to find his way around effortlessly, even in the gloomy semi-darkness.
When Sir Edmund entered Lady Theresa's bedroom he found her asleep, dressed only in a thin white nightgown. She was a radiant beauty, 22 years old, slim with chestnut hair and noble features.
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When she woke up, Lady Theresa stared at him sleepily for a moment, recognised him and immediately understood.
'Sir Edmund, what about...?
‘He is dead, my lady,’ Sir Edmund answered. There was no point in glossing over the harsh truth, he thought, but he didn't have to tell her everything. He kept quiet about the fact that it had happened during an afternoon fling with a buxom, big-breasted redhead, some peasant girl from the kitchens, as well as the fact that the wench had run naked and screaming through the palace afterwards, shouting ‘he just fell on me!’ over and over again.
The news came as a shock to Lady Theresa, as he had expected. She didn't cry though – of course she didn't, after all she was of noble birth, if only of lower nobility. Nevertheless, he could see genuine sorrow on her pretty face, although he doubted that the lady had felt any real affection for her lover; the king had been far too choleric, too licentious, too self-indulgent – a sinful man for whom gluttony and fornication had been as desirable as they had been common. And also too ugly for a beauty like Lady Theresa, Sir Edmund thought. He had to swallow hard when he saw the quivering lower lip, the elegant pallor of the delicate skin and the heaving breasts, covered only by a thin fabric, so close to him. No, it had not been love that had led this dark-haired beauty to respond to the king's advances, but a business deal that had brought her, who two years ago had been a penniless orphan in a subordinate position at court, an estate, a modest fortune and a staff of servants.
She sat unsteadily on her bed, too shocked for a moment to speak. 'How... how did this happen, my lord?’ she finally asked.
Sir Edmund had always held Lady Theresa in high esteem, thought her kind, intelligent and honest, and now he saw his judgement of her character confirmed, for she still seemed to give no thought to her own fate. That spoke in her favour, he thought, but there was no point in keeping her in the dark any longer, so he said curtly. 'Although I am not a doctor, I would say that it looked like a stroke, my lady. However, I regret to inform you that you are under arrest.
‘Under arrest?’ She looked at him in confusion.
'That is correct, my lady. I have orders from the King to take you into custody. He pulled a sealed envelope from under his tunic. 'Here is the letter of arrest with the royal seal.
Now she was even more confused, she stared at him and laughed nervously, hadn't she just been told that the King was dead?
Sir Edmund saw the pieces of the puzzle coming together in her mind and the fear was evident on her beautiful and even features.
She swallowed hard: ‘I understand, sir.
The old king might be dead, but now there was a new one, a five-year-old boy whose favourite pastime was eating sweet cakes and riding a wooden warhorse in the palace courtyard.
Sir Edmund cleared his throat.
‘It is the Queen Mother who wishes your arrest, my lady. She was confirmed as regent by the Crown Council last evening.’
The Queen was a withered woman, disillusioned with life, who had long since found refuge in a dogmatic religious zeal. It had been nothing short of a miracle that she had become the mother of an heir late in life, for she had felt nothing but contempt for her husband, but for Lady Theresa she felt unbridled hatred.
‘I see,’ the Lady repeated, ‘may I still be allowed to dress?
Sir Edmund shook his head, ‘There is no time, my lady’
She nodded, stood up and straightened herself, her firm breasts pressing against the thin fabric of her nightdress and Sir Edmund saw her tantalizing body outlined before him as if she were naked. ‘Well, sir, then you must do your duty.’
The old warrior swallowed nervously, placed his riding cloak over her narrow shoulders and led her down to the waiting carriage.
2
Sir Edmund sat beside her for the long journey, silent and noticeably depressed. Lady Theresa also remained quiet, caught up in her frenzied thoughts and dreadful premonitions. She was grateful to the old knight for the wide cloak he had given her, for the thought of being exposed to the gaze of the soldiers of the escort in only a scanty nightdress seemed unbearable to her. The men had greeted her with derisive jeers and indecent remarks, and one had even tried to touch her before Sir Edmund had put a stop to his behaviour with a sharp order. That had made her realise very clearly how much her status had changed overnight. Not long ago, any one of them would have risked lashes or worse for such lewdness, but now the men stared at her with impunity, unconcealed lust and brazen grins.
The horse-drawn carriage rolled along dusty roads for hours and she gradually realised that she was not going back to the palace. That was an ominous sign. Theresa felt an oppressive dread gradually spreading through her chest, which finally turned into icy, paralysing fear when a dark looming structure appeared on the horizon above the fields.
‘Sir Edmund,’ Lady Theresa exclaimed in horror, ’this can't be where you take me...’
‘I'm afraid it is, my lady. I'm sure you've already recognised the abbey. That is our destination.’
The huge keep, which stood out like a black tooth from the landscape, was indeed unmistakable, surrounded by half-ruined walls, towers and bastions. Everyone knew the gruesome stories that were told about this place, once a fortress, then a monastery and now the most notorious women's prison in the realm. Theresa knew them as well, although she had always dismissed most of them as exaggerated horror tales. She opened her mouth to protest, but then she saw that Sir Edmund averted his eyes, unable to bear to meet hers, and she realised that any resistance was futile and would do nothing more than further embarrass the man.
So they travelled the last mile to the abbey again in a depressed silence. Finally, the carriage rolled through a fortified gate between two mighty bastions and came to a halt in front of an ancient stone wall with a long row of barred windows.
‘You can leave that coat here in the carriage, my lady,’ Sir Edmund said, breaking the long silence. For a brief moment she felt the desperate urge to plead, to cling to the old knight and beg him for mercy, but that would do nothing to change her fate. ‘You... you won't need it... in there,’ Sir Edmund stammered, blushing like a schoolgirl. She simply nodded, letting the cloak slip over her shoulders. Shortly afterwards the carriage door was pulled open. One of the soldiers grinned at her. She stumbled out into the sunshine, her arms crossed in front of her breasts as if she could preserve at least a small part of her dignity that way. It was a gesture that in truth seemed ridiculous to her given the circumstances.
For a moment, she stood in front of the huge stone building, feeling like a sinner on judgement day. Then she felt the grip of strong hands on her upper arm and allowed herself to be led on unsteady legs to a small side door as if without a will of her own.
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