The Minstrel's Tale Part 1

Whatever reply the king had been about to make was cut off as the double doors at the end of the hall were pushed open and a pair of armed men stepped inside. The king and the prince leapt to their feet as guards rushed to intercept the intruders. They stepped swiftly aside, though, to allow the passage of a bearded, broad-shouldered man in a black and red cloak. Behind him, looking at the ground in front of her feet, was a girl with long black hair.

“Reyna,” the prince whispered to himself, grinding his teeth together.

The king descended the steps of the dais and held out his hand. “Lord Glaston, I wasn’t expecting you.”

The other man shook his head sadly. “I never thought I’d have to come to you like this, old friend. I need to have a word with you, and I think it should be in private. My daughter and Prince Edwin can stay. This concerns both of them.”

The king nodded to the clerk, who gave an order to the guards to clear the room. When the doors were closed, Glaston continued. “As you know, my daughter has been staying here at the castle for some months now, receiving instruction from your royal tutors.”

The king nodded. “Yes. We agreed on that together.”

Glaston returned the nod. “Reyna returned home this afternoon. Her throat was so raw from weeping that she could barely speak, but she has told me enough. Did you know that your son was bedding her?”

The king looked straight at Edwin. “No, I did not know that.”

“Well, you also did not know, then, that your son has gotten my daughter with child.”

The king’s gaze snapped back to Glaston. “What did you say?”

The man nearly growled as he spoke. “She is pregnant with your son’s child.”

“It’s not true!” Edwin burst out. “She’s lying. I’ve never been with her.”

“You’re the one who’s lying,” Reyna said, now gazing straight at him. “I’ve been with no other, now or before.”

Edwin shrugged. “She wants the throne of a queen. That is all. She came to me this morning and demanded that I go along with her lie. She could have lain with any servant or stable hand for all we know.”

“My daughter is not lying!” Glaston shouted, raising his fist and stepping towards him. “You made her run naked back to her room after she told you, you spineless wretch.”

Edwin dropped back a step, momentarily cowed by the man’s anger.

“Hold!” the king shouted. “Hold, or I’ll have you dragged to a cell to cool off, lord or not.” Glaston drew in a deep breath and slowly lowered his fist. “Now, then,” the king continued, “this is a very serious matter. If the girl tells the truth, she must be wed to Edwin at once. I won’t have a bastard for an heir.”

“But I don’t want to marry him,” Reyna said, her cheeks burning. “He’s a snake.”

“That’s very good, you little bitch,” Edwin scoffed. “I’d almost believe you myself.”

“Be silent!” the king shouted, and then waited, letting them all simmer and seethe, reminding them that he was the one in control. “A spiritualist can test the infant’s parentage after birth. We could determine at that point which of you is lying. One of you must be. Now tell me, Reyna. Is it true that you carry my son’s child?”

She bowed. “It is true, my lord. I swear it on my life to be true.”

The king spoke more slowly. “Will you, Edwin, concede that Reyna is telling the truth, and that this child is yours?”

Edwin glared at the girl, focusing all of his hate into a look that forced her to drop her gaze. “She lies,” he said at last, turning to his father. “I never bedded her.”

The king’s face fell. He swayed slightly as if stricken. “The word of a king is law,” he said. “The matter is decided. I’m sorry, Reyna. You must be mistaken.”

Reyna spared one more angered glance at Edwin and then gathered up her skirts and fled the room.

“This matter is not finished,” Glaston swore. “The child will be born next spring, and then we will know who lies. I will not forget this, old friend.” He said it as though it were a curse and then turned and swept from the hall.

When he was gone, Edwin smacked his hand into his fist. “They’re traitors, both of them. They should be killed. We’ll have the guards take them. They’ll be drawn and quartered.”

The king spun and threw the back of his hand across the prince’s face so hard that he sprawled to the floor. “You wretched fool,” he spat. “You mock me in my own hall. How dare you!”

Edwin rose shakily to his feet, dabbing at the blood welling from his lip. “Father, she’s lying,” he said weakly.

“You are lying, you pompous little ass. You think I’ve been blind to your dalliances? Maidservants, cooks, messengers, any pretty girl willing to spread her legs at the request of her prince. Reyna’s tutor told me that the girl has been distracted and sullen for weeks. I had my suspicions, but I didn’t want to believe it was true that my son was fucking the daughter of my oldest and best ally out of wedlock.”

“So you take her side, too?” Edwin scoffed. “I knew that you never liked me, father, but I never thought you’d turn your back on me.”

“You turned your back on me, long ago. And now you’ve turned away from your duty. You are not fit to rule.”

The words struck Edwin like a blow. “Father,” he stammered, “you can’t mean…”

“Yes,” the king intoned. “I wasn’t certain of it until this moment, until you showed me the depravity you are capable of. You will destroy this kingdom if you are allowed to rule.

“At your birth, you took away the one thing that I loved most in this world, but I forgave you for the death of my wife. Fate had killed her, I told myself. I thought that if I could mold you into a wise and capable ruler, her memory would live on. I see now that I was mistaken about you. I wish you had never been born. You will not become king when I am gone. I will name one of my brothers to be heir instead.”

“You can’t!” the prince shouted back.

The king drew himself up, staring at his son with undisguised hatred. “I will make my announcement tomorrow night.” The prince’s look of shock was not lost on him. “Yes, on your eighteenth birthday. If you live out the rest of your life in disgrace, you have only yourself to blame. Now go. The sight of you turns my stomach.”

* * *

The minstrel trailed behind the servant, letting the man edge further and further ahead. Oblivious, the man droned on about the workmanship of the tapestries, giving the history of each, who owned this one and what battle it depicted. Alban stopped at the intersection of corridors and crept off down the right passageway. Later, the servant could only blink in surprise when he whirled around, saying, “And here is your room,” and found that his charge had disappeared.

Alban paused at the end of the corridor and closed his eyes. Left, he decided. The tingling at the back of his neck increased. He was so close now. It should be any moment. Suddenly he stopped and looked to his right. “Hello.”

The girl looked up, blinking through tears. She was seated on an ornately carved couch looking out over the garden. The breeze tugged lightly at her hair. “If you don’t mind,” she said, “I’d rather be alone.”

She was young, but possessed of the kind of early beauty that a few girls have, that blossoms and only grows more radiant as they mature into womanhood. “I don’t mind,” the minstrel said gently. “Though it looks as though you could use someone to talk to. My name is Alban.”

He waited while she pushed the palm of her hand roughly over her eyes. She looked at him with a wry expression and then nodded, patting the seat next to her.

Alban sat and began to rummage through his satchel. “What happened to you?”

“I was a fool,” she said. “Someone did something very bad to me. It should have stopped at that, but then I deluded myself into thinking that I cared about him. He was so sweet, so kind when I was with him. I could almost forget that first night.”

“I see,” the minstrel said, nodding. He knew much more than what she was saying. There was only one reason he could have been drawn here. “Who was this man?”

She smiled sadly and shook her head. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Ah, here it is,” he said, producing a flute from the bag. It glittered in the light, polished silver trimmed with gold. He blew into it, making a rude noise. The girl laughed.

“You see,” Alban said, patting her arm. “We are creatures of hope. Sadness cannot last forever, no matter how deep the wound.”

The girl’s smile faded. “I’d like to believe you, Alban. My name is Reyna. Where did you come from, anyway?”

“I’m here to entertain for the prince’s birthday celebration.”

“Oh, that,” she said, sinking back into despondency.

The minstrel watched her carefully. “He did this to you. He’s the one who did wrong to you.”

“Yes,” she admitted.

“The prince raped you. Didn’t he?”

She closed her eyes and bowed her head in pain. “I—I don’t know,” she whispered. “But now I have his child, here.” She touched her belly. “And I don’t want it. I’ve really messed things up.”

“I’m sorry, Reyna,” he said. “You have to trust me that things will get better. And the prince will get the end he deserves.”

Heavy footsteps approached from the end of the corridor. The minstrel held the flute behind his back and bowed deeply. “An honor to meet you, Lady Reyna,” he said softly, then slipped away through a door at the end of the room.

“Ah, there you are,” Lord Glaston said, tromping up to her. “I was worried, Reyna, dear. You shouldn’t run off like that. Are you feeling any better?”

“A little,” she said. “Can we go home now?”

“I’m sorry, dear. It is too late to make the estate by dark. We’ll have to stay the night.”

* * *

The rage built within him, moment by moment, driving him mad with the urge to scream. Instead, he slowly, deliberately paced the width of his chambers, turned, and paced back, letting the hate feed on itself. The kingdom was his by right of birth. He would not let it be taken from him.

It was all that little bitch’s fault. He remembered his impulse earlier that day as she lay on the floor. In his mind, he let the scene play to its conclusion. First, he would grab her wrist and twist her arm up behind her back so that she was helpless with pain. Then he would push himself savagely into her and fuck her so hard that she would beg and plead with him to stop. After, when she was lying there on the cold stone floor, whimpering in pain, he would creep up behind her, place the tip of his sword at the core of her bruised and battered flesh. He would let her feel the shock of the cold steel a bare moment before he sheathed it in her flesh.

His father would die by the same sword, but more slowly. First he would slice off his arms, then his cock. The legs would take longer. He would have to saw through the bone. And he would plead, first for his life, and then for a swift release from the pain. Edwin would make him beg for forgiveness before he finally slit the old man’s throat.

The prince opened his eyes, his anger now cooled to a smolder, letting him think more clearly. No. As satisfying as it would be to act out his desires, it would finish him. The nobles would have him executed if he usurped the throne. Edwin needed a way to get rid of the king before he could make his announcement that would not draw suspicion on himself.

Poison. He knew at once that there lay the key. From there, the pieces of the plan fell perfectly into place. It was all going to work out better than he could ever have imagined.