The Ardoon King

by Samuel Fort

  Chapter 3: The Queen’s Mercy

  When Persipia was in front of Lilian, she excused her escorts and promptly fell to her knees.

  “Annasa, I beg your forgiveness,” she said, and began kissing one of the queen’s boots.

  “No, no, none of that,” said Lilian, looking about apprehensively before reaching for and lifting the other woman’s chin. “Please, Persipia, sit.” She motioned toward nearby chair. She leaned toward a man who stood nearby. “Mr. Fetch, bring our guest a sandwich and juice.” She looked questioningly at the woman. “Coffee?”

  Persipia nodded haltingly. The smell of Lilian’s coffee was making her delirious.

  “Good. And a quilt - get the one from my husband’s study.”

  The man stooped and retreated.

  “I do not deserve to be treated this well,” mumbled the guest, wringing her hands together.

  “I should say not,” agreed the woman opposite her. “You are a traitor and should be consumed by pigs. You and your mother. I offered you everything and you returned my generosity by surrendering yourself to my enemy at the first sign of trouble. If my husband had not intervened I would not be as cordial.”

  The younger woman said, “I didn’t want to surrender to Moros. I pleaded with my mother. I-”

  “No, no,” said Lilian coolly. “You didn’t. You are a weak-willed and fearful creature who is prone to doing what you are told to do, by your mother and others.”

  Pride tried to assert itself yet again. Persipia quashed it. Bowing her head, she mumbled, “It is as you say, Annasa.”

  “Do not take my condemnation of your character too badly, Persy. In the role I would have you, your pathetic weakness and your great beauty, if we can recover it, are to be prized. To that point, have you been harmed?”

  “No, Annasa. I was not...touched. An old man granted me refuge and hid me from the Ardoon mobs.”

  “Good. Then I will explain your situation to you plainly, for I have had many weeks to dwell upon it. I am willing to renew my offer to assign you as the king’s consort. Your mother told you of this offer, no doubt.”

  “Yes, Annasa,” replied the woman. A ray of hope filled the survivor’s mind. Gods, I might not only live, but perhaps...

  “I am aware,” continued Lilian, “that you are sereti and concerned that you cannot be both consort and ‘lady.’ That is not the case. My husband is king and if you are consort to no other man, you may be granted that title. Even serretu is available to you, if you conduct yourself in an exemplary manner.”

  Persipia, unable to control herself, burst into tears. The dichotomy was too great to emotionally reconcile. Moments ago she had hoped only to live. Now she was being told by the queen that she might not only live, but participate in court. Trying to recollect herself, she said, tears on her cheeks, “Thank you, Annasa.”

  Lilian held up a hand. “Wait. You have not heard the conditions of my renewed offer yet”

  Persipia shook her head. “Annasa, I will do whatever is required.”

  The queen studied the gentle slope of the woman’s shoulders, and said, “Yet you do not know what is required.”

  “It does not matter,” the woman said earnestly, wondering at the remark.

  Lilian pretended to meditate on her next words. “Well, that is encouraging. Perhaps your wretched mother told you that my husband is opposed to taking on a consort. Thus, even if he were to grant you the title, he will not call upon you. He has not yet escaped his Ardoon thinking about such things, and probably never will.

  “Also, I am compelled to tell you that you will not be harmed if you refuse my offer. I cannot formally punish you for your treason, even as a citizen, because the king will not allow it. Thus, if you refuse my offer, you may remain at Steepleguard as a citizen. Who knows, you might even find a noble who desires a properly trained sereti, though it will be years before any noble will have any real power outside these walls. The perks of such an association would be rather limited.”

  She looked the ragged woman up and down, biting her lip, before continuing. “Still, nothing else will be required of you, aside from your tenuous allegiance, if you prefer that route. You will not be a member of the court, but you will be free. Not everyone is cut out for the demands of court life. I am not sure you are, to be perfectly frank.”

  “I am sereti,” Persipia protested weakly.

  “Oh, certainly you have the requisite education, dear. I am sure you can manage fetches, arrange banquets, and host dignitaries. I have no doubts as to your technical abilities. I wonder only whether you can handle the stress that comes with your assigned duties.”

  Now afraid that the queen had been toying with her and was preparing to withdraw her earlier offer, Persipia blurted, “I swear, Annasa! I swear I can. And I will serve the king to my utmost, and you, and your sister.”

  Lilian leaned back and rolled her eyes. “My sister? Persy, Fiela cares nothing for court life and seeks only the perpetual companionship of my husband and the occasional hunt. My sister’s fetches are more than adequate for her few needs.”

  Persipia’s excitement ebbed. The king did not want her, and Fiela, who had been kind enough to give her a blanket and warm tea, did not need her. It was apparent to the woman that she would serve only Lilian. Still, that seemed a far better fate than to expire amongst the citizenry, a sereti past her prime, without family connections and with few prospects other than liaisons with aging nobles who had no powers or authorities.

  She raised her once dazzling eyes and said with gravity, “Save me, Annasa, and I shall be your slave.”

  Lilian nodded approvingly at the pronouncement. “You are much like your mother.”

  Placing her cup on an adjacent table and cocking her head to once side, she added, “To be honest, Persy, I have need of an individual with your training. Fiela is the closest thing I have to an equal, but she is Peth and has an aversion to court life. Thus I have no advisers and no one to manage my domestic spies.” She took a moment longer, allowing the tension to build, before saying, “I think we can arrange for something, given your show of penitence, despite its unfortunate abridgement. You need only convince my puritan husband to accept you as consort, at least in name, and the matter will be settled.”

  Persipia again saw her future slipping away. “What if he refuses, Annasa? Could I not still serve you?”

  Lilian shook her head. “No. You are a known traitor and I cannot tarnish my reputation by employing you directly. It would appear too forgiving by far. However, my husband is compassionate to a fault, and given his Ardoon heritage, few nobles or citizens would begrudge him for having mercy on you. If he does employ you, I will use your skills by proxy. As I said, I have given ample thought to this matter. This is the only way.”

  The other woman lowered her eyes. “I understand, Annasa.”

  “Good. I shall have a word with him on your behalf, but you must do your part. Tell him that you expect nothing from him aside from his goodwill. He is a perceptive man and will instantly comprehend the reality of your role in our House.” Seemingly growing tired of the exchange, the queen said, “Do you have any other questions?”

  “No, Annasa.”

  “Excellent. I shall have your contract drawn.” Nodding at Mr. Fetch, who had arrived with a platter of food, a quilt over one arm, Lilian added, “Please, warm yourself and eat. We’ll get you cleaned up afterwards and you can talk to the king.”

  “Thank you, Annasa,” Persipia said, extending a trembling and filthy hand toward a steaming, golden-brown croissant crowned with a pat of melting butter. Before she could reach it, Lilian stood up between her and the platter, and extended her hand.

  Persipia kissed it.