Chapter 15 Queen Emeline
Fifteen
Queen Emeline
Catherine was buried next to my mother in the royal cemetery.
She got the burial she deserved. But regardless, it provides me no solace because my daughter is dead.
She would have achieved such greatness, and I have no doubt that she would have changed the world.
But now she lies headless and rotting in the ground because of Aethelbald.
I am numb. Just when I thought my heart couldn’t be destroyed any more than it already has been, life proves me wrong. I’m broken beyond repair. But ironically, Catherine’s death has only fueled the fire inside me.
Most may give up, surrender to what seems the inevitable, but not me. Once I buried Catherine, I bathed and dressed in a simple black dress, for I am in mourning. I sat by the window and watched the sun rise because, after this day is done, I do not know if I’ll ever see another sunrise.
I’ve not slept.
I’ve not eaten.
None of this matters because all I want is to destroy Aethelbald and erase any trace of him from this earth.
But I must be smart and not allow my emotions to rule me. He must be in the belief that he’s in charge until the very end because blindsiding him is the only way to win. He would be acquiring every soldier to ride to the monastery with us. So I know we’re outnumbered.
I don’t know what to expect, but I hope once the brothers see us, they’ll fight alongside me. Although they don’t condone violence, they will fight to protect themselves and their Lord.
My door opens, and Sigrith enters.
Without a word, she places shackles on my wrists.
I don’t fight. I simply stare blankly at her, fists clenched.
I don’t recognize the woman before me as she places a metal collar around my neck.
Once I am chained, she yanks me up by the chain attached to the collar and forces me to stand.
She leads me from the room where soldiers wait.
They are ready for battle.
I’m led like a dog on a leash through the palace, humiliated as my court watches on. They are cowards as they do nothing. But I will remember their faces and ensure they pay dearly for their betrayal. Aethelbald smirks when he sees me being led on a chain.
I’m surprised to see Skarth, Aric, Lord Louis, Alruna, and Benedict. But they’re coming along as Aethelbald’s insurance. With them in tow, he knows my acting out will be minimal. But it’s not guaranteed.
This is the only chance I have to escape.
Regardless of my restraints, the hairpin I stole from Sigrith, which is hidden in my palm, is the reason I am so certain of my freedom. It will take all day to ride to the monastery, which gives me ample time to pick the lock on my shackles and set myself free.
My friends look exhausted and beaten.
Skarth, however, looks ready to burn down the world.
He, too, knows this is our only opportunity for escape because once we reach the monastery, an all-out war will erupt. Skarth knows me well, and he would have guessed that sending Aethelbald to the monastery is a trap.
As always, when we go into battle, we are unsure whether we will come out the victor. But like all wars we’ve fought, we fight for our freedom and to defeat the malevolent.
But this time, there is so much more to lose.
My children’s lives are on the line, for failure means their death. Or if Aethelbald uncovers my deceit, he will ensure my children suffer for my lies.
The mood is somber.
Soldiers are aware that this battle will be one in which lives will be lost. Under my rule, at least they fought for justice and growth. But under Aethelbald, they merely feed his greed.
Mounting our horses, we ride toward the monastery, unsure what the next few hours hold.
* * *
Aethelbald rides with me.
Sigrith is with Skarth.
The silence is deafening as we’re all deep in thought.
Aethelbald isn’t his usual confident self. Perhaps he is having second thoughts.
I wonder what comes of my friends King Raedwulf and King Beornwulf.
Aethelbald hasn’t forgotten about them. I believe he is keeping his playing hand close to his chest because the more pawns he has, the greater chance that I will submit.
Also, they have armies behind them.
Aethelbald knows that without the church's blessing, his rulership is weak, and Wessex and Mercia would defeat Northumbria’s army.
He must prove himself. And he cannot do that without the backing of the church and Northumbria. I am a thorn in his side that he needs.
This is why he keeps my nearest and dearest alive. They are merely pawns he can use as collateral.
As we ride over the hill, the monastery is illuminated by the setting sun. It appears as if the hand of God himself touches down on the building, granting those inside protection.
I can only hope He, too, looks down on me with such clemency.
As we pass a thick wall of greenery, my heart sinks because hundreds of Northumbrian soldiers emerge.
Aethelbald notices the shift in my mood. “Just as a precaution,” he has the gall to say. “If what you say is true, then a mere conversation is what is needed to put this confusion to rest.”
He is fooling no one.
I don’t humor him with a response because, regardless of his army, he forgets who trained them and who knows how they fight.
Skarth and I.
And he also underestimates me because he believes my shackles are still linked. However, they are not. I used my time well, and on the ride here, I maneuvered the hairpin into the lock and worked on it incessantly until it gave way.
The cuffs are still around my wrists, but I am free.
We ride with no haste. A false illusion to the brothers who have no doubt seen our approach. I cannot help but feel remorse for sending the wolf among the sheep. But this must stop, and for that to happen, blood must be spilled.
We cannot wait any longer, for the longer we wait, the more people die.
The bell sounds, alerting those inside the monastery that an intruder is approaching. The brothers are peaceful people. They will not attack unless provoked.
We arrive at the drawbridge and are greeted by a brother in a brown gown. A white rope is tied around his waist, and a wooden crucifix hangs from it. I hate that we bring corruption to their doorstep.
“My queen.” The brother bows in servitude. He doesn’t mask his horror at seeing me in the state that I am in.
Aethelbald awaits his royal greeting, but he doesn’t receive one.
This infuriates him, and just as he is about to draw his sword, I intervene. “Accept our apologies for arriving so late and unannounced, but may I speak with the abbot?”
The brother licks his lips, clearly unsettled by my request. But he knows he cannot refuse the request of his queen. So he nods.
He leads us into the gates, where we follow.
“You may want to remember that we need the brothers alive, for a massacre spilling innocent blood will not do you any favors with the church,” I say to Aethelbald.
He grunts unhappily.
The monastery is just as I remember it. When I dropped off Benedict and Barlow, I never anticipated returning on such terms. But here we are.
An older gentleman greets us. His presence instantly calms me. He is the abbot, and I vow that I will do everything in my power to protect him.
Brothers line the upper levels of the monastery as well as the bottom. They watch on, ready to defend their home if they must. I bring warfare into their tranquility. I secretly promise that it will be the last time.
We dismount, and I continue to entertain the facade that I am still cuffed, much to the horror of the brothers. They realize I do not come here on my own accord.
“Forgive our intrusion, Abbot Maxwell, but this could not wait,” says Aethelbald. “There seems to be some confusion in regard to my rulership. Queen Emeline has served this kingdom well. But she tires, and it is time for the throne to be overseen by its rightful king.”
The brothers stir, clearly not in agreement with Aethelbald.
“However, there seems to be some pushback by the church. An oversight, I am sure, which is why I am here to remedy any problems there may be.”
The abbot looks at me closely. “I would be more comfortable without my queen shackled.”
“Please do not fret, Abbot Maxwell. I am comforted being here in the house of the Lord.”
Skarth reads my deterrence for what it is. This was his whisper of a clue that in minutes, we are to fight.
The abbot examines me, his wise gray eyes inspecting his surroundings.
“The monastery will benefit richly from this union. So will the church. There need not be any concern, for I was born to rule. I wish to speak to the one who worries and averts my ruling. I wish to explain to him that I only want the best for England.”
“Aethelbald, I thank thee for riding all this way, but we are simple men, doing the Lord’s work, and if He does not want you to rule, then there will be resistance. I cannot stop the word of the Lord. No one can. I suggest you speak with the clergy because we do not have such sway with the church.”
The abbot is lying, and for him to do so shows how strongly he opposes Aethelbald’s ruling.
Aethelbald isn’t pleased. “Please do not insult me. We both know that is a lie. Where is Brother Maurice? Mayhap he can clarify this mix-up.”
The abbot plays the game well. He takes his time, and I suddenly wonder if he’s stalling. I examine our surroundings, and when I make eye contact with Brother Maurice, I know I’m right. But that means he was tipped off.
But who?
Everyone who is on our side is shackled against their will in front of me. My other allies are kingdoms away. Word does not spread that fast. So that means we have a mole inside the palace walls.
“You heard Abbot Maxwell. Let us not offend him further. We come to his home, unannounced, and now you call him a liar. You must repent for such blasphemy.”
“Sweetling, the long journey has made you stir-crazy with fatigue. You do not know what you say.”
Aethelbald attempts to smooth things over, but this is the window of opportunity I need.