“Take what joy you may from being futtered so,” Casimir told Christine afterward. “Know you that I prefer your other hole and I will take you this way only rarely, and never once you are gravid. I have found there is nothing to be gained by pleasuring you cows beyond your merits. You straightaway come to expect such treatment, and forget your proper place.”
“From you, My Lord, I expect naught else,” Christine said. “I am your slave, and you shall do exactly what you wish with me and with poor, sweet Emily.”
“If you understand this much, Princess, you have found the beginning of wisdom,” Casimir said, nodding.
Christine experienced another notable low point in her existence after the wedding ceremony. The Count led her out to the landing at the top of the courtyard steps, before thousands of their subjects of all ages and ranks. He then declaimed to the crowd, “Lest any person be in doubt as to relative place in the governance of the Kingdom between myself and Queen Christine, I will now dispel it. The Queen is my consort, whose only function is to bear my offspring. If you are unhappy with an act of my government, do not think to appeal to the Queen Christine, for she has not the power to overturn even the least order nor decide the smallest dispute.”
He sat on a chair brought over by a lackey, then ordered his new bride to lay herself face down across his lap and lift high her skirts, revealing her naked bottom-globes to the crowd. He pulled a rawhide riding glove onto his right hand, and administered a long, harsh spanking. He continued long after Christine’s globes were as red as tomatoes, giving no heed to her kicking feet or her tearful cries for mercy. After he finally released her, Casimir had one more humiliation in store. In front of her people, he made her go down on her knees to thank him for the spanking.
Immediately after his coronation, Casimir sacked King Charles’ chief advisors, having little trust in them. Rather than replace them, he took most of the reins of the government into his own hands. His only close confidants were Captain Boynce, who he made Chief Captain of the palace guard and, oddly enough, Master Harkness.
Perhaps because he had gained power by means of a secret conspiracy, King Casimir was unusually suspicious, and made far more use of the executioner’s services than King Charles ever had. One consequence of this was Harkness’ frequent presence in the rooms of the palace, where Casimir summoned him to consult about the many suspects being interrogated at the King’s behest. When on these occasions Harkness would find a chance for a private word with Christine and Emily, he would whisper such things as, “You’re not forgotten, Your Highness and My Lady. Just don’t give up hope.” The girls were far from certain that Harkness’ encouragement was not in fact some kind of trap set up by Casimir, and in any case they could not see how he could help, even if he wished.
One day, a little over a year after Casimir’s coronation, the King was breaking his fast with Christine, Emily and Master Harkness when Captain of the Guard Boynce rushed up and saluted.
“My Lord, a message of the greatest importance for you has just arrived,” Boynce bellowed in his usual ear-rending volume.
“Indeed?” answered Casimir. “And what is it?”
“It is this,” Boynce answered, drawing his sword and plunging into Casimir’s chest. “The rule of a bloody tyrant is over.”
The King looked at the soldier for an instant, clearly astounded by the man’s treachery, then slumped forward onto the table as a torrent of blood gushed from his open mouth.
Emily and Christine stared at the dead Casimir, then spun around to see if former King’s bodyguards would avenge their master’s death. They did not. Instead, they saluted Boynce and asked. “What are your orders, sir?”
One hour later, Christine, Emily, Harkness and Boynce sat together in the drawing room of the Royal apartments, as the two men explained how Casimir’s overthrow was so easily accomplished.
“The Count had many good qualities, but his besetting weakness was greed,” Boynce said. “He could not resist confiscating noble estates, once he learned the trick of first accusing them of plotting against him, then torturing confessions from them. You may well believe me, My Lady and Your Majesty, when I tell you that after half a year of rule, Casimir had not the support of one Bartavian noble house. And yet, with all the enrichment he gained from these thefts, he gave nothing of his new wealth to his soldiers. Never have I seen a tighter-fisted man.” Boynce shook his head. “Some few of the men still followed him, but none I think had any abiding fidelity to him after they learned how little reward they could hope for in his service. It was only natural that a conspiracy would form among Casimir’s many enemies. We needed but a man inside, one in whom he confided all his secrets, especially which of the Guard he trusted, so that we could arrange to have them off duty at the right time. Master Harkness filled the part admirably.”
The astonished girls turned to the grizzled executioner. “You, Master Harkness?” Christine asked. “I thought naught could make you play the traitor.”
Harkness looked at the ground, as if embarrassed. “Well, you see it’s like this, Your Majesty. The Count was sending so many folk downstairs that I had to work harder than I ever had in all the years but, like the Captain says, he wasn’t paying me a farthing more. Fact is, I was doing less well, even with all the work, on account of I were too busy to take in outside jobs, like I did under your father. A’top of that, King Charles had swored to give me a nice little bit of gold when I retired, which I was going to do this very year, on account of my rheumatis. The Count, he wouldn’t hear a word of it. When I told him I wanted to retire, he said: ‘Harkness, you’re the only man I can trust around here. I cannot spare you’ and the like. So, I did for the Captain here, and he took care of my retirement.” He looked at Boynce, who nodded to acknowledge the debt.
“Now, if you don’t mind too much, Your Majesty and My Lady,” Harkness continued, pulling a pair of the familiar double nooses from his jacket, “would you oblige me by putting your hands behind your backs so’s I can fix you up with these?”
“What?!” both girls shouted. “What mean you, Master Harkness?” Emily asked.
Christine said, “The vile Count has gotten the reward he has earned from his evil deeds, but we two are innocent. Must we now be your slaves, Captain Boynce?”
The mercenary shook his head. “Nay, I am no man like Count Casimir. Never would I use two noble ladies of your quality as he did. But you must see the thing from my view. If I wish to become King, and I am far from certain that I do, I must needs be certain that nothing of the old rule remains. You are Casimir’s Queen, and the daughter of the old King. Do you not see how popular a candidate for the open throne you would surely be? As for you, Lady Emily, you have a legitimate claim on the throne of your own, as the King’s adopted daughter, and you are the Duchess of Fernhill in your own right. No,” he concluded, “I cannot risk having either of you remain in the Kingdom while there is so much to be settled.”
“Then give us horses and let us go free, I beg you sir,” Christine said earnestly, as Harkness drew a loop of rope tight around her wrists. “I will swear by any oath you name to renounce the throne, and Lady Emily will do no less. We will ride away and never return, this I vouchsafe. Akkk!” Just as she finished this speech, Harkness slipped a second loop around her neck.
“I doubt not your word Your Majesty, but I am not a free agent myself in this matter,” Boynce said apologetically. “I have already promised you twain to Master Harkness in payment for his help.” The heads of the two girls swiveled to face the executioner.
He nodded as he slipped the last rope in place around Emily’s neck. “There is a man I know, one as free with his gold as the late Count was mean, who pays top crown for fine noble ladies like what you are,” Harkness explained. “With what he’ll give me for you two, why I’ll be able to buy a nice little bit of land for my own, and not have to swink for nobody in my old age.”
“Who is this man to whom you would sell us like a pair of breeding ma
res?” Christine asked, hoping to hear the name of a nobleman who might treat two helpless young girls with a least a modicum of kindness.
“Why, he’s the Baron Frederick Harzel of Castle Hildeshiem,” Harkness answered, and the blood left Christine face. If any man in the Empire had a worse reputation than Harzel for cruelty to beautiful women, she had not heard of him.
Emily looked at the stricken Christine and asked, “What is it, Christine? Is this Baron so evil as all that?” Her friend did not answer, but Harkness said, “You’ll see for your own self in a few days, My Lady.” He gently tugged the leads on their harnesses and led the silent girls away.
The End
To Train A Queen Page 11
