The History of Isabel De'Monet

Posted by Isabel De'monet  on Sep-30-00, 06:36 PM (PST)
 
The carriage jolted as sweat lathered horses made their way from the castle at the crack of a whip. The lone figure inside pulled back the curtain of the coach to catch a fleeting last glimpse soon entering the lane of trees leading away it quickly disappeared from view. Falling once more with the drop of her hand a look of sorrow crossed the face of its occupant now alone in the darkened solitude. First a single tear fell in memory then the floodgates opened. Leaning back not needing to close her eyes for darkness sake moistened eyelashes soon touched to produce more tears as her mind was carried away to a happier time. When meadows were filled with spring grasses and the flowers she wore in her hair scented the air around her.
She was young when he met her, dark brown hair about her shoulders framing a rounded face.
Skin of ivory, cheeks of summer apples crowned with the emerald green of her ever laughing eyes. A simple peasant skirt with a tattered apron and leather sandals were what she wore then; her hands now ran across silken and lace finery.

"What shall become of you now?" Asked the King as he lay upon his deathbed. Even now in this moment, their last together was not to be in private. Priests standing off to one side at an "acceptable" distance, ears straining to hear every word over the choir that sang in the ante chamber. Members of the court who once bowed and curried for favor now more closely resembled wolves circling a wounded animal. With the first scent of blood waiting for the time to be right to move in for the kill. Braving a smile she took his hand in hers kissing his ring then turning his palm placed her face upon it and closed her eyes. "What would become of her now?"

"I wish they would stop that infernal singing,” he said with a labored breath. "There will be time enough for that after I am gone, why torture me by making me listen to it now?" Her mouth turned into a small smile. "But my Lord they wish to bring you comfort." he cut her off "Then find some cotton batting so I may plug my ears or stuff their mouths!" she grinned again. "Now my Lord they strive so hard to please you." looking towards the faces of the small boys who sang wide eyed in the room just beyond them. "Let them give you this gift." Nodding in silent agreement the Kings eyes drew tight as they fell back upon her "And what shall I give you?" he asked. "Before it is too late and the vultures are rid of me, what may I give you?" eyeing the ever nearing crowd. "Nothing you haven't given me already" she said with a smile, her voice shaking as the strength in his hand diminished. "I should have married you,” he said, voice now much weaker and barely audible. Their eyes met and together they smiled, there was a love there. The priests shifting visibly, eyes narrowing in frustration. "I am but a humble servant my Lord." She imparted. "Even so," he said regaining a moment of strength. "You will be left with nothing, no title, no lands or letters without so much as a farthing. I have brought peace to my kingdom and made it strong for a uncaring son, but for you I have failed." "I shall be fine." she said her voice now holding a more somber tone. Closing his eyes momentarily he exhaled, the crowd drew closer then backed away as he opened them once more. Looking to his hand-servant of some 40 years he motioned him forward with his hand. As he approached he was followed by the glares from the rest of the room. Moving close to the kings face he nodded quietly with a saddened smile as the words "See to her." passed the kings lips. "I will look after her as if she were my own daughter." with that the king smiled approvingly. "Good" he said, then closing his eyes he grasped her hand as she shifted. "Stay with me a little longer" he said "There isn't much time left."

Commotion from the outer chamber with a increase of murmured voices drew his attention momentarily as the hand-servant once again approached. Leaning over he whispered hurriedly in her ear. "My Lady the queen is coming." All eyes turned to the figure in the bed, her jaw clenched with crying she could not let loose. The sounds drew closer. Urgency now marked the servant’s voice as he insisted. "My Lady you must go- now!" "I am so sorry" she said choking back the tears. "No it is I who am sorry child. If there is a heaven I hope you will be there for me." He said with a smile. With those words and a tugging of her arm reluctantly she pulled away her hand and his parted and then she was gone.

Hastening through the crowd past the choir, youthful eyes followed her as they continued with their chorus through the small door which the servants used past the chapel. They paused before exiting the door held only slightly ajar as the queen’s cortege filed past. Head held high, face expressionless already assuming the mantle of the widow who's heart had long been dead, she was a hate-filled and vengeful woman. Entering the antechamber she waved those whom spoke to her away as she approached the figure of her dying husband. Theirs had been a marriage of state to secure borders and build alliances that would ensure the peace of the realm. Duty but never love having entered into their marriage bed. The son and heir who had been poisoned against his father by a spiteful mother being the only thing to have ever come of it.

Approaching the bed to find the imprint of where the one before her had been sitting. A questioning look to the priest soon produced a nod to which she exclaimed. "That whore was here!" Closing his eyes as if the word caused him great pain he exhaled quietly in resignation. "It is bad enough you put her before me in all things, paraded around like a summer peacock, she was here sitting on your death bed." His eyes now closed he wished for death welcoming it. Opening his eyes hoping to see the reaper only to see her once more he spoke. "I am not yet dead wife and I am still King." "You are a old fool, and soon to be a dead one." He closed his eyes once more as the singing of the choir began to fade.

Making their way past the now empty great hall where audiences of the past had been held. She paused momentarily as memories of dancing and singing could be heard, cut short by the sound of a voice. "Where are you off to?" Said the voice of the High Prince as he stepped out from behind the throne. "No where Milord" was her reply curtsying as he approached. "I would hope you came to pay me homage." he said with a smirk as he fell back into the throne. "Your father is not yet dead." the hand-servant spoke out stepping forward. "He will be soon enough old man and then everything will be mine." his eyes fell upon her, they now held a look that made her uncomfortable. "I want to see what was so "special" about you." he said licking his lips as he eyed her greedily. "Maybe if I bed you too I can be a great King like my father."

"I am nothing Milord" was her only reply eyes cast downward. It was then the sound of lamenting could be heard from the floor above and a solitary bell began to chime. Closed her eyes bowing her head slightly she whispered the words "Good-bye." under her breath as she clutched her cloak. "Stay here and await my return, I must get my ring." he said almost gleefully "Then I will be back for what is now rightfully mine." He said leering at her, with that he turned and left. Standing there in the silence of the chamber they listened to the sound of eager footsteps as they faded down the hall.

"Come MiLady." Said the servant "You must leave this place." Nodding she quickly followed him. Satin slippers muffled the sounds of footsteps as the two made their way down the back hall towards the stairs. Leading to the outer courtyard past the mews where a carriage waited. Pulling the hood of her cloak as she approached, hooves pounded the ground anxiously, ears twitching to the sounds of mourning and bell which now peeled spreading their mournful tidings across the land.

Quickly she was in, the door closed and no sooner seated and they were off. The inner carriage was midnight dark with the curtains dropping as the hand that lifted fell to her side and the tears came. He had been her King, her lover and when he needed her most, she had been his friend. Time seemed to stand still as the horses found their stride and the carriage began to rock with almost hypnotic rhythm. It was then in the dark as her eyes adjusted that she saw a small gilt and ivory box sitting on the seat opposite her.

Picking it up and running her fingers across the inlay and intricate carvings, she opened the small hasp lifting the lid. Inside was a letter of passage and the king’s chess set. She gave a small laugh recalling how many summers had they spent whiling away the hours taking part in battles while the country was at peace? Summers turned to autumn with the falling leaves came the great hunts. Running a finger across the white knight she recalled racing her gray against his black charger across fields of golden grain through forests painted of jewels. Placing her hand across her bodice she recalled how as the snow danced outside the windows they would sit on the giant rug in front of the fire of his privy chamber. It was there lying in nakedness he would pour drops of warmed brandy upon her skin, kissing them off then making love to her gently by the firelight.

Tears fell uncontrollably now as she closed the lid and clutched the box to her chest. Eyes reddened by tears stung, her jaw ached and chest pained. Sitting above with the coachman the hand-servant and driver exchanged looks of sadness as sounds of crying could be heard from below. The driver cracked his whip and called out to the team, which picked up the pace. Making their way on the back-roads towards the borderlands to the west.

Now she was nothing, her future unknown.