Schwan (10 A Promise)

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" A Promise"

10 A Promise

The Duke had been watching Fredrik throughout the dinner.  If Juliet played her part well, his plans just might succeed.  If he could get his daughter into the House of Midmont, he could deal with Fredrik any time.  He had his own man there already.  The old King had been a fool, and never suspected until it was too late.

Joining the Kingdom of Midmont to his own lands would make him a force to reckon with.  Even the Archbishop would have to respect him then.

He was tired of kowtowing to that pig.   The Archbishop had the Church behind him, and the Emperor.  But Midmont was an Elector as well.  Even the Emperor would have to acknowledge him then.  He could tell that Bastard Priest to go to hell, where he belonged.

The Duke was enjoying these thoughts when he was interrupted by a knock on his door.  It was Damson, his right hand man, and head of his spies.

"My Lord, we have a problem."

"What is it now, Damson?" asked the Duke in irritation.

"I had a man watching the road from Midmont..."

"So?"

"We don't know what happened to him.  His horse came in without him in the morning.  He was a bad one for drink, but never while on duty."

"He's probably drunk, in bed with some wench.  Have him flogged when he shows up."

"But there's more."

"What?"

"Slythain's man, Potten, was found dead, in the river.  It appears he was washed down from Midmont.  From the looks of him, he went over the falls."

"Was he carrying any message?" asked the Duke, suddenly interested.

"We found none, My Lord."

"It could be an accident."

"Yes, My Lord..."

"But you don't think so?"

"No, My Lord."

"Go on."

"There was a monk, traveling with Fredrik and his men.  He is staying at the monastery now.  He received a visiter early that same morning.  We believe there was a message from Waterton."

"Then, this man would also have been on the road that night."

"Yes, My Lord."

The Duke thought about it.

"We'll need to talk to this man."

"I can't just take him from the monastery, My Lord."

"I'll have to talk to the Archbishop," said the Duke in resignation.  He hated to have to ask for another favor.  The Archbishop always wanted something in return.

"You can go now.  Keep me informed if anything else turns up."

"Yes, My Lord."

✠

Slythain had lost all track of time in the dark.  He relived his arrest over and over in his mind.  First had come some concern, then panic as he was dragged before the Princess.  Then, after a beating, he was thrown into this hole.

Next came an eternity of silence and darkness so thick he could feel it.    He was chained to a damp wall by an iron collar around his neck, barely long enough to let him lay down on the moldy straw.

He did have plenty of time to think.  Duke Richard had promised him a position of authority in the new puppet state of Midmont.  But those promises were worthless now.  Maybe he could bargain his way out of this.  But, if they had realized that he was the one that had poisoned the King; he could expect no mercy.

When he heard a key turn in the lock, he was expecting the worst.

The jailer came in, keys jingling, with two of his men.  They locked manacles around Slythain's ankles, and led him out, and up a twisting stairway.  He stumbled along in the torchlight, dragging the chains, rattling behind him.  No one spoke.

They stopped at a heavy oaken door.  Light shown though a small grating.  Slythain's heart pounded as he recognized the torture chamber.  The old King had had little use for it.  It seemed his daughter had other ideas.

In truth, Princes Lillian was a gentle soul.  She had hoped that the traitor would break without this.  But she was prepared to follow though, if it came to that.  She steeled her nerves, and waited.

She was there, watching impassively as they strapped him down with leather straps.  He broke into a cold sweat as the men ripped his tunic open.  One was heating irons in a fire.  The fire cast weird shadows on the cold stone walls.

Princess Lillian spoke only one word.

"Names."

"Please, Your Highness," he begged;  It had no effect on her.

By now the irons were red hot.  One of the men drew one out, holding it up where Slythain could see.  Slowly he approached.  Slythain could feel the heat on his exposed flesh.  He involuntarily strained at his restraints.

His mind was racing.  What was the use in trying to hold out?  He was doomed either way.  At best, he could only hope for a quick and relatively painless death.  And this wasn't it.

At the first touch of the iron, he shrieked.

"Stop it!  Stop it!  I'll tell you everything!"

Potten had been right.

✠

At Duke Richard's castle, in Fredrik's room, Elise listened with pleasure as he described the land of Midmont, and the town of Waterton on the lake.  It brought back memories of her mother, and the stories she used to hear as a child.  From time to time, she would interrupt him.

"I remember my mother telling me about that.  She always said we would go back, but then, she died, and I came here."

Then, Elise grew quiet, and withdrawn.  Hearing him, brought back more memories.  Ones that had lain dormant for years.  Fredrik's voice trailed off as he watched her.  After a time she spoke again.

"No... That's not what happened."  Then she slowly continued, her voice filled with sadness.  "No... We came here...  Then, she died."

Fredrik could see tears running down her cheeks.  He wanted to dry her tears.

"Elise... Elise... Come back to Midmont with me."

"I can't," she sobbed.

"Marry me... and come home with me, Elise."

"What?"

"I want you to be my wife... "

Now she broke down completely.  Fredrik pulled her to him and wrapped her in his arms.

"Please, Elise."

"But I'm only..."

"My Elise..."

"And you are..."

"Just a man that loves you..."

Finally she said the words he longed to  hear.

"Yes... I'll Marry you.  I'll be your wife."

It was a strange thing.  They had only just met, yet it seemed to be destined.  She could tell, that he felt it too.  Elise was still crying as he held her, but this time it was for joy.  There was hope for the future.

After a time, they walked to the window.  Fredrik took out a cross on a silver chain and slipped it around her neck.  The cross itself was carved of Ivory, with silver trim, embedded with gemstones.  It was a beautiful piece of work.

"This is a token of my love for you, and my promise to take you with me."

He took it and put it beneath her chemise between her breasts.

"Keep it hidden for now, until the time is right.  Trust me."

They spent the night laying beside each other.  Elise talking about her life, and Fredrik speaking of their future.  He was careful not to mention the throne.

In the morning he reminded her, not to speak of this to anyone.

"Except, you can tell Anna."

Elise wondered how he knew Anna, but she did not question him.    

To be continued...