When they came upon Hambledon it was evening, and when the sun rose the next morning, Freyza knew why Hambledon had been chosen as a location that simply could not be missed. He knew that Hambledon was among Katherine’s estates — perhaps the most cherished one of all, though she often recalled leisurely times in Stansby as well — and far enough from Norbury Lake or Racleigh so that she felt less burdened by her duties than she did elsewhere. However, the true beauty of the place had been lost in translation.
He cleared his mind with a walk early in the morning, when the dew still lingered among the high grass, and overlooked the large valley that the hilltop revealed to him. Nothing lay there but water, meadow, small linings of white sand by a bend in the river, and a rickety bridge that Freyza hoped Katherine had never taken to crossing without supervision. Nonetheless, while nature had always characterised itself as cruel to a man of courts and ships like Freyza, the flora and fauna of Hambledon seemed to be aware of the fact that they were upon a royal estate.
He heard geese fly overhead. He tried not to think of the reasons that brought him to this place.
Standing just before the hillside dipped, he tensed up when he heard footsteps, turned, and saw Richard in the high grass, his hands behind his back.
‘Morning,’ said Richard, trying to appear amicable with his shoulders drooped subserviently and his face less severe than usual.
‘Morning, Lord Richard,’ said Freyza with a nod. ‘Some weather.’
‘Some weather…’ Richard repeated, lingering with his feet just above a step he would take into a number of wildflowers.
The wind blew past their ears, and Freyza was beginning to wonder about the spymaster’s reasoning for appearing there in that early morning. ‘Is anything the matter?’
Richard shook his head slowly. ‘Nothing is the matter. Haven’t spoken to you in a while, Lord Freyza, which I try not to do, given our mutual dependence upon each other and our natural disposition towards distrust — both of each other and in general. That, and I heard the strangest thing, and I am trying to deduce whose idea it was.’
‘Well?’ asked Freyza.
‘Where did you think you were heading today?’ asked Richard.
Freyza shrugged. ‘I was to stay in Hambledon House with the Sultan and Ilworthian peerage, parliamentarians and lawmakers in order to discuss particularly aged treaties on our alliance before the fall of the Gineforts.’
‘Yes, I believed so too, but they plan to make you mount a horse and ride out with the youthful crowd tonight,’ Richard said. ‘Was there a change of plans that you have been made aware of, or should I seek this on the other end of the Sbaian-Ilworthian alliance?’
‘I do not know where you ought to seek it, as long as you know that it is not I who made that decision,’ said Freyza. ‘That is all. The hunting trip was a futility invented, to my knowledge, by Queen Katherine herself, so that a few of her guests would not be bored to death with talk of stewardship and lawmaking.’
Freyza’s polite veneer dropped and made way for great irritation that Richard appeared to find telling. He added, ‘If you must disappoint her, I will happily be to blame. I am bound by duty to remain here today.’
Richard raised his brows. ‘Do you disrespect the crown, Lord Freyza?’
He felt like a membrane which had long been punctured had grown shut in the time since he learned of his irrelevance to Katherine. Every conversation he had not had with her, each time she had not granted him exemption or a favour, it had in fact worked against him after all.
‘I would not dare,’ said Freyza. ‘But you and I are men of diplomacy and refinement. We are men of the law. Do you not understand the severity of my absence? Who will take my place, Lord Bayezid?’
Richard nodded, his eyes glossing over a bit. ‘I recall Bayezid of Amouas, yes… well, Lord Freyza. You of anyone should know that Her Majesty has her own way of securing the things she wants in her reign. In that way, it is better to consider her rulings myth or relation to godliness rather than considering it justice. I was here simply to inform you. I’d rather not meddle.’
Freyza felt his reservations lift. ‘This is Lady Katherine’s personal doing?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ said Richard, lifting his brows, ‘If it is not our doing as council, and it is not your doing as Sbaian embassy, the mystery has somewhat been lifted, no? I believe, Lord Freyza, you ought to get inside before the hunting party leaves without you.’
‘God,’ Freyza hummed. ‘I wish I’d known this in advance…’
Richard chuckled. ‘As did I.’
Katherine was waiting impatiently with the master of the hunt in the stables for the others to pour in. Her ladies had come along with her, and the next few to come were Henry de Vega, Prince Murad and King Henri, each of whom was mortified to see the other two. Then trickled in the children of the elder dukes that had gathered in Hambledon, as well as some of the younger members of peerage, and finally, red-faced from exertion already, Freyza.
It amused her greatly. Ever since their contact had become sparse, Katherine had started to see new amusement in Freyza’s discomfort wherever she could find it, especially the discomfort of inconvenience and change of plans. Those invited all mounted their horses and rode out, their gear clinking in a cacophonous symphony along with the hounds.
Henri caught up with her first, unwilling to let Murad or anyone else for that matter conquer the spot by his fiancée.
‘I can’t believe you invited the Sbaians to this,’ Henri said at first, soft enough to be out of their earshot.
Katherine looked to the side without moving her head, as she had been known to grab too tightly at the reins and steer the horse aside when she looked. ‘Surprisingly, one tends to take their guests,’ Katherine said. ‘Even if they are unaccustomed to our hunting practice. That is why we lead.’
‘The ambassador was necessary?’ he asked.
Katherine shrugged softly. ‘The ambassador has done much for us. The ambassador is the reason we are all here.’
‘Theo says he is an evil wizard who has you under his spell,’ said Henri.
Katherine rolled her eyes. ‘I say you worry about his influence on me unduly.’
From the openness of the gardens and a large stretch of grass before Hambledon House, they tucked into the forest, first the master of the hunt, then Henri and Katherine, and following them, the rest of the party. Beneath the canopy of the ancient trees, the early morning sun that shone particularly bright was dimmed to a bearable level, and their eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness of the forest.
They slowed and inhaled the fresh forest air, which was moist from the dew and the soft babbling creek that followed them deeper into the woods.
The master of the hunt raised his arm and brought his horse to a halt, and the rest of the party followed. The master was a man of perhaps sixty years old, with deep grooves in his face, and glossy black hair generously whitened at the temples and throughout the strands. His expression was careful and a bit hesitant.
He was quiet in his speech, as he had been all morning. ‘We are approaching the meadow,’ he said, ‘I will take another route to drive out animals. Your Majesty the Queen, Your Majesty the King, upon you falls the honour of leading the rest of your party.’
Henri looked with scepticism at the huntmaster, whose commitment to seriousness and formality did not stop at just the way he spoke. He bowed gracefully, and only when Katherine had nodded at him, did he tap the horse’s side again. As he disappeared into a winding path to their left, over a narrow bridge crossing the creek, Katherine looked over at the rest of the party.
They were bored, mostly. Irritated by the early rise, perhaps, or somehow annoyed to be among so many unfamiliar faces. Katherine thought that perhaps groups no larger than four people would know one another, as each attendee had come from a different place entirely. Katherine clicked her tongue and brought her horse to a trot again.
As the group, which had been a long string of either one person on their horse, or two side by side, had turned into a crowd while they were listening to the master of the hunt, the order changed somewhat. Henri had let himself fall behind a little, instead chatting with Henry, and Katherine found herself leading on her own, with Freyza behind her and to her right. Towards the end of the trail sounded a horn, and Katherine saw the canopy of trees make way for the meadow before her eyes, where she saw the herd which had been flushed out.
Her heart was pounding feverishly in her chest, though she could not speed up anymore as she rode, at least in polite society, sidesaddle. Instead, she steered to the right and let the men of the party pass her by. She knew she would not be the one to make the first shot that day, though it was customary for either her or Henri to deliver the last.
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From where she rode, now trailing behind the party with the huntsman who had blown the horn, she had an excellent view of the herd as it separated, came together with the help of the hounds, and quickly became subject to arrows and bullets. Henri, of course, was the first to fire a pistol, and the roar it produced upon firing was enough to terrify half of the horses into disobedience.
He missed, and the first arrows too hit the trees that lined the high grass. Every so often the master of the hunt could be seen, the glint of his own pistol shining and making his presence known behind the treeline, as he rode to and fro to keep the quarry contained.
Another few shots were fired: Henri again, then Archduke George, followed by Murad. Not a hind nor a hart had fallen to the ground yet, and Katherine was beginning to wonder whether she should have brought falcons after all, to at least have something to eat that night.
Then, the horn sounded. A stag had lost the race against an arrow, and Katherine rode towards it as the rest of the herd disbanded, loaded her pistol clumsily, and fired, effectively delivering the killing blow.
The arrow that Katherine presumed killed the stag was wedged in its neck, though another stood upright in its flank. When she looked up from the animal and towards her side, hoping to see the man whose bow had brought them there, she saw Freyza by her side, looking down in horror at the carcass.
‘Scared of a little blood, Master Freyza?’ she asked, chuckling.
‘No, my lady,’ he said simply. ‘Though I did not mean to be the man to… floor the animal, I suppose.’
Katherine frowned as she studied Freyza’s face. He seemed hesitant, even shy about what had just transpired. ‘You killed it?’ she asked.
Freyza looked over with a look of apprehension. ‘I believe it was you, Your Majesty, who shot the animal dead,’ he said.
The huntmaster had caught up with the party and looked triumphantly over the people he had brought, and looked around for the young King of Massouron, who had stepped down from his horse as well and padded around the stag.
‘For you, Your Majesty, as the honour of the unmaking befalls upon you,’ he said as he handed Henri a hooked knife.
Katherine flashed a grin. ‘Why is it never my honour, my lord?’ she asked. ‘But the honour of whatever man I choose to ride out with?’
The huntsman smiled, having known Katherine for a long time by that point and being aware of her nature to a degree most of the hunting party could not even begin considering. ‘I like to show you the true nature of your company, as you well know, my lady,’ he said.
After the last meal of the day had been had under the awning set up by a dozen servants, men and women were beginning to trickle into their tents for the night. The night was winding down and Katherine found herself hunched over a ceramic cup of mead with Eleanor and George, Murad, Freyza and Henri. The last few torches were illuminating the stained wood of the table and each other’s tired faces, and instead of the pleasant chattiness of dinner, the cold of the night seemed to have permeated their minds as well.
Murad seemed intent on staring Henri down every chance he got, and with Henri’s deep disdain of the Sbaians growing with each passing day, he seemed more susceptible to the threat than ever. Both Katherine and Henri had peered too deeply into their cups, and it seemed that Freyza had not said anything all evening.
‘Gentlemen,’ Katherine said after a particularly painful silence, ‘And Ellie. I wish to inspect the horses before bed. No need for company.’
Eleanor’s eyes flicked up at her sister and she hesitated coming with her, but at the last moment, sat herself down again.
‘Don’t worry,’ said George offhandedly, taking her hand in his.
Henri sighed, breathing steam out from his nostrils. ‘I guess I’m heading to bed, then,’ he said. ‘We’ve all had much wine to sleep off.’
After everyone had said their goodbyes, Freyza quietly picked himself up and found himself absentmindedly going towards his tent. He heard eerie shuffling behind him, the occasional bout of laughter or a cork being popped, the festivities of course carrying on even without the royal presence, but he had had more than enough.
He thought of the negotiations. They must have gone poorly without him, or so he imagined, and he was dying to return to the sophisticated world of treaties, policy and diplomacy. Instead, he found himself slipping through the flap of his tent into a cramped, low canvas structure barely as tall as he was.
He cursed the expedition. As he looked down at the prickly straw sticking out of the sides of his mattress, and the elongated shadows of the crumpled blanket cast by the lantern, he wished so much that he could take his horse and leave. Perhaps that was Katherine’s intent after all: after a day of being all but hunted for sport himself, if he dared to leave, there she would be, and he would stand petrified.
It was easily abandoned in his mind. In the morning they would return, and with a bit of luck, he would not have to endure any more discomfort than he had been made to feel. He undid the clasps on his leather doublet with a heavy sigh, when he heard footsteps before the entrance.
‘Master Freyza, you are summoned,’ said a young boy, judging from his voice.
Freyza took his lantern in hand and thanked his god that he was wearing court clothes below his hunting doublet rather than a gambeson and a pair of run-down breeches. His ill-preparedness was paying off after all.
‘But a moment,’ he said, clanked at his belongings as if he had anything left to do but gather his thoughts, and then headed out.
The boy was Henry’s squire — Freyza knew that once his squire had been a young woman, but she had recently been knighted, which left Henry de Vega back where he started, directing eleven-year-old boys.
‘You said I am summoned,’ Freyza said, looking down at the flaxen-haired youth.
‘Indeed, by the crown of Ilworth,’ said the boy, proud of the fact that it had been him to make the announcement.
‘At this hour?’ asked Freyza.
The squire all but shrugged. ‘It was urgent, my lord.’
‘Which is why they sent a squire,’ he countered, trying to keep his voice low just in case his annoyance might return to bite him. After another deep sigh, he added, ‘I shall follow you, sir.’
The boy smiled a toothy grin and began making his way through the camp. Few lights were still lit, save for the guards and their torches, which illuminated the muddy path. It was not a path at all, simply the footsteps of those who had come before them that evening.
Katherine’s tent was one of a few larger ones. Considering the sheer number of these large canvas structures, he assumed that all Massouric libertinism had been postponed until a later date, especially since all tents seemed to still have some semblance of lights on.
He found himself quite impressed. The structure itself was large, square, and decorated with heraldic designs such as banners, flags and emblems in the house colours, blue and purple. It opened with large velvet and cloth of gold curtains and led into a rudimentary sitting room with some chairs from Hambledon House, a couple of rugs to pad the floor, and a writing desk. Two guards stood on either side of another entrance, this one shrouded in darkness. Katherine, however, was nowhere to be seen.
When he looked to his side, the boy had disappeared.
Perhaps it had been the boy’s cruel joke, he thought all of a sudden, just before Katherine appeared from the inky depths of the entrance.
She had cast off the hat and the coat that she had worn riding, but still appeared respectfully dressed, though he was disused to seeing her face not framed by a crown, an elegant hat, or a mass of blondish red hair, but instead covered in an unbecoming linen coif.
‘Master Freyza,’ she said with great amusement, ‘I was worried about you. I told Thomas to fetch you quite a while ago.’
Freyza grimaced, eyed the guards. ‘My apologies, Your Majesty,’ he said and bowed.
‘Come,’ she said, turning on her heels to face away from him. ‘I try my best not to talk to dignitaries under the prying eyes of any servants or guards. It makes Lord Richard fume to hear I’ve been entertaining important guests when the moles of my reign might be looking upon them. You can never be too cautious.’
‘Well said, my lady,’ he said. ‘Though I am certain some caution applies as well to inviting a diplomat into one’s private chambers, especially at this hour.’
Katherine chuckled darkly. ‘It is but whoremongers who worry about such things — pardon my language. I suppose that makes your worrying… fitting, for your occupation. Please, indulge in a bit of innocence. I’ve been meaning to talk with you for days now.’
And I with you, he thought as he followed her.
Despite the beauty of the sitting room, her own chambers reminded him of the tent that he had been allotted. There was a simple bed, a lantern, some curtains to block the crack of light that still came in from the other end of the tent. The inclusion of a number of chairs seemed the only true difference.
Her voice had grown softer. ‘There are a couple of things I want to speak to you about, Freyza. You have done your best to avoid me, but you would be better served by doing as I say.’
Despite the great annoyance in her voice, he felt compelled to scoff. ‘And what is it that you do say, and I refuse to do, my lady?’ he wondered.
‘Sit down,’ she barked.
Freyza did as he had been asked, though not without a look of disinterest. ‘My lady? I wish to add that I have been nothing but compliant with your wishes. Anything you have asked of me, I have undertaken — including this adventure of yours.’
‘Your insistence on keeping your distance from me is hurting your career,’ Katherine said. ‘You ought to wonder if you are willing to see your life’s work topped like a tree.’
He leaned forward a little, resting his elbows on his thighs. ‘I do say that it is overdue for a pruning. I have letters unanswered from last winter. Your Majesty…’
‘Have you forgotten my name?’ she asked. ‘Let it be clear, Freyza. Nobody can hear you. You are a statesman but I am the state, it would be unwise to let me have a room to myself that is susceptible to spying.’
Freyza looked up at her and sighed. He had seen her in all of her ways: the plotter, the orator, the state, the dangerous seductress, the huntress, and the roisterer. Now, only the woman herself was left.
‘I haven’t been avoiding you, Katherine,’ he said after all. ‘I’ve come up against something.’
‘You have another?’ she asked.
Her presumed jealousy intrigued him. ‘Not at all.’
She stood up, undid the rings from her fingers to place them over a number of wooden pegs next to a dish upon which she placed her bracelet. ‘A general distaste of the way I handle my company, then?’
He crossed his arms. ‘Yes, if you’re asking me honestly,’ he said. ‘You inspire nothing more than you inspire bloodshed and lust. It’s distracting from everything I had so meticulously planned. You could be a brilliant queen, reigning with dignity and grace, and instead, your primary focus seems to be on seeing your betrothed get skewered by a famous Sbaian warrior.’
Mischievously, she looked up from the work of unclasping the jewelled brooch on her dress. ‘I need not top your career like a tree after all. Your jealousy does it far better than I ever could. I inspire bloodshed and lust, you say as if I were a goddess of these concepts. You can have the goddess of bloodshed and lust by your side, if you can bear that I promise the same to others. If you cannot, perhaps you are not cut from the right wood to work alongside me.’
‘You have grown,’ said Freyza. ‘The young monarch that I had congratulated on her ascent did not have this in her.’
‘Do you realise the boldness of that statement?’ Katherine bristled.
‘I do,’ Freyza admitted. ‘Once upon a time, Lady Katherine, you and I were confidantes. As much as I have always found our arrangement pleasing — I toil in your name, yes, but not because you are a monarch. There were many of those on the continent, but there was but one of you.’
‘Was, Freyza?’ she asked. ‘That I have grown bolder should not deter you.’
Freyza stood up and nodded softly, gazing at his shoes. ‘It shouldn’t, you’re correct. Yet I am sure that you know that many things which should not be, are, and that many things that should, are not. I’ll try once more in vain to bend your ear, as I know many have asked me to. Call off the duel.’
‘Every day, you say the same,’ said Katherine.
Freyza huffed. ‘For it is true and needful.’
‘Tell what is true and needful to my advisers. I do not call you here for diplomacy,’ Katherine said. ‘In fact, I’d like to end this here. You have been dismissed.’
Katherine turned her body away from him, kicked her mules off, and did not watch him leave.
