In post-Romano Britain, the land is divided amongst the various kingdoms.
The northern Britons occupy Northumbria which stretches from modern day Edinburgh to Manchester. It is a cold, barren landscape dotted with small villages in remote pockets of fertile land. Northumbrian men aged thirteen and over are expected to serve their kingdom's military to help quell the frequent Pict raiders from Scotland.
To the east, the Angles have settled along the coast spanning from Newcastle to Grimsby. Their shipbuilders are renowned across Europe for their craft, and they earn a fine living through fishing and trading. They are a smaller kingdom which lives quietly and relatively peacefully in larger, oceanfront communities.
South of Anglia is Essex, followed by Wessex and Sussex, home of the Saxons. These are the descendants of the original Saxon invaders and as such their borders stretch across most of the south and east of Britain, only halting in the west for the large peninsula of Cornwall. The Saxons and Cornish are famed for the might of their vast armies and overflowing treasuries, both a result of living in a temperate climate.
The western kingdom, where modern day Wales lies, is called Gwynedd and has been largely untouched by post-Romano invaders. Its only neighbours are the sea and the large kingdom of Mercia, the latter of which is home to a majority of the remaining Celt and Roman descendants.
Fighting is common among the kingdoms in times of poor crop yields, or when widespread disease decimates the numbers of an army. Villages and towns living in the borderlands are especially prone to marauders from neighbouring kingdoms. Alliances and truces are broken more quickly than they can be repaired, and most of the people in Britain live in fear from invasion.
The people are further divided between those converting to the newly promoted Christian faith, those who honour pagan traditions, and those who embrace both. The religious beliefs of the individual king dictate the distribution of resources between the two factions. In areas of strong Christianity, many monasteries have need for fulltime guards to protect them from being plundered by unbelievers.
This is the world I know: one of evil, deception, and intrigue.
My name is Isabella, daughter of Charles, Lord of Lyonesse and loyal servant to Royce, the king of Cornwall. We live in a grand castle on a hill overlooking Glastonbury Tor. My father says it's the largest castle in all of Britannia with its thick stone walls surrounding a courtyard of tall stone buildings. There are two gatehouses at either end of the castle complex guarded night and day by skilled warriors. Archers patrol the top of the walls between gatehouses, and everyone who enters or exits the complex is thoroughly searched.
My father says it's for my safety but I feel trapped inside a stone prison. I'm not allowed outside the castle perimeter and must always be accompanied by my lady's maids, Jessica and Lauren, and my personal bodyguard, James. My only solitude comes at night when I lay in my bed weeping for freedom I so desperately crave.
My only friend is Angela who lives in nearby Ilchester; she visits me as often as permitted. She is the daughter of a wealthy blacksmith and often assists her mother with weaving cloth. She's friendly, caring and loyal – a true friend. I love her deeply philosophical nature and look forward to long chats over mugs of ale. She is the only one who knows the full extent of my unhappiness. Sometimes I wish we could run away together, perhaps to France or Ireland, and live freely as commoners.
But that is just a dream. As the only daughter of a lord, I have responsibilities and obligations to him and to those whom he serves. I love my father very much and I know he returns my affection even if words often fail him. He understands my displeasure but is hard pressed to change it – such is the plight of a woman in Britain. And as a woman I must suffer in silence, to the best of my capabilities. I've never been a very traditional woman.
XoXoX
This year marks my sixteenth birthday and my father has planned a major celebration. All the lords and ladies of our country will attend, including King Royce. I don't like him but father says attendance by the king is a big honour and that he will be toasted almost as much as me.
I'm looking forward to this night. Emily has fashioned me a beautiful dark blue gown made from the finest cloth supplied by Angela's mother and my father has given me permission to wear my late mother's fine jewels. As Emily finishes the alterations to my long, flowing gown with its tight bodice and loose skirt, I can't help admiring my reflection in the mirror. I'm not normally one to care about my appearance, but today I look really pretty with my waist-length auburn hair set in perfect ringlets. And I feel like a princess wearing my mother's tiara.
"You look beautiful, Miss Isabella. Just like your mother," Emily says as she smiles up at me from her position at my feet. She is putting the last stitches on the hem of my skirt.
"Thank you Emily. And I keep telling you to call me Bella," I reply sternly.
She blushes as she says, "It's not proper for someone of my station. I was taught to be respectful toward my master or mistress."
Her words bother me. "I am NOT your mistress. You may work for me but I don't own you. I know you're the newest maid, but Emily I am not like the others. We are going to be very well acquainted and I would like you to think of me as a friend."
She smiles but doesn't reply. I can't blame her, most land owners would flog someone who was less than rigorous about formalities. I hate them, both the formalities and those who abuse their loyal staff. Though my father may be a man of wealth and importance, he has never forgotten that once he was a lowly servant and treated abominably by his master. His frequent lectures on the value of human dignity have not fallen on deaf ears.
When Emily is finished her adjustments, I take a moment to appreciate her hard work on my appearance. She really is talented; my dress swishes around my beautifully and I know father will be pleased by the way the blue makes my white skin glow like a full moon.
By the time I arrive at the party in the great hall – a large building with vaulted ceilings, plenty of comfortable seating around a grand wooden table, and a massive fire in a stone pit in the middle of the building – the musicians are already playing and food is being distributed to hungry guests. Many of these people have travelled a long way to be here, so I like to personally thank them for taking the time to make this journey. Most people compliment my dress, which makes me happy, though I can feel the telltale heat in my cheeks. I'm the consummate blushing princess tonight, which only makes me blush harder.
It's not appropriate for me to dance but I do it anyway. I shouldn't drink so much ale but I ignore my father's stern glare. I'm having fun and I'm being subtle – at least I think I am. I'm enjoying myself tremendously. This is the biggest party I think we've ever had at Lyonesse and for once I don't feel lonely, even if I don't know most of my guests. I love the laughter, animated chatter, and camaraderie going on around me. Men flush with drink, women talking together in quiet groups, servants running around taking care of the demands from their lords. It's chaotic and loud. I love it.
There's no doubting when the king arrives because the timbre of the room changes drastically. The music stops, conversations cease, and servants bow respectfully. I can't help cringing internally as I walk slowly toward the main entrance to greet my most honoured guest. As his eyes molest my form, I feel dirty and cheap, and it makes me angry. But I won't embarrass my father by behaving as anything less than a perfect lady. In a nutshell, my fun for the evening is over.
"My dear Isabella, how lovely you look this night. Your father has greatly under represented your growing beauty and womanhood. Shame on you Charles," he says as he turns to my father. I can tell Royce is not mad because of the irritating playful smile on his face.
"My lord, you are kindness itself. Thank you for the pleasure of having you in our humble home," I say as I bow dramatically. Maybe I'm hamming it up a little, but this man is stupid. He won't have any idea even though I see the twinkle of amusement in his wife's eyes. I know from previous conversations she thinks as little of him as I do.
Royce is pleased by my gesture. "Kindness and modesty. You have done very well Charles. I congratulate your accomplishment," my father bows his head in appreciation as Royce continues, "Let us not keep from celebrating. Everyone please return to what you were doing. I want nothing more than a few moments respite after such a long journey. Emmett!" He barked, as a frightened looking bear of a man suddenly appeared before the king. "Fetch me food and drink. I wish a large chair by the fire to rest my weary bones. Go!" Emmett scrambled away to fulfill his duties.
While Royce continued conversing with my father, Queen Rosalie embraces me in a warm hug. It makes me happy; I haven't seen Rose for many months.
"How do you fare, my friend?" She asks as we separate.
"I am well enough. How are things in Tintagel? Any new scandals?"
She looks around nervously before ushering me to a smaller table in a corner. "I'm pregnant!"
I'm sure she sees the shock written all over my face. "But Royce…" She shakes her head and it dawns on me. "Rose! You have a lover!" I try not to squeal with delight.
She giggles and holds her finger to her lips. "Shhhh, Bella. If Royce finds out…"
I suddenly seem incapable of sitting still. "Who is it Rose? What's he like?"
She smiles because she knows me – I have to have all the details. "I won't tell you who, but you need to know I'm in love. I've never felt this way about anyone before. Oh Bella, he makes my heart sing. He consumes me," she gushes.
My mind briefly flashes to the shadow of a man who has occupied my dreams since I was a little girl. But my mind is set on Rose right now so I ask, "Does Royce know about the baby? Won't he figure it out?"
She flashes me a sly grin. "I covered all my bases. Once I missed my courses, I seduced him. He'll never know the difference."
Our conversation is interrupted by the devil himself bellowing, "Rosalie! Where is my wife? I wish her by my side!" Rose rolls her eyes and joins him, performing her duties as a good queen. This leaves me to wander the room to chat with my other guests. Father approves, I can tell. When I want to be good I am the perfect hostess.
What an odd night. Every time I glance toward Rose, she is deep in conversation with Royce and a few of the higher ranking men, including father. I can tell their conversation is heated and Rose is very agitated, but it is impolite for me to join them. It looks as though women – except for Rose – are unwelcome to this debate. Still, I keep my eye on her for signs of distress. I have no idea what's involved with pregnancy but I'm fiercely protective of her and the baby she's wanted for a long time.
My worries are temporarily forgotten when I see Angela and her parents. I greet them as if they are family, because to me they are just that. Her father, Thomas Weber the blacksmith, presents me with a gift of the most beautiful dagger I have ever beheld in my life. It is no longer than my forearm but the blade is sharp and the hilt has a scaly dragon wrapped around it. The dragon's eyes are bright red rubies and its back is spotted with black onyx. It is by far the most beautiful, intricate piece of metal work I've ever beheld. I barely notice my father approach us until he is already speaking.
"Do you like it, Bella? I had it commissioned for you," he says proudly.
Though he can see I admire it very much, I respond with, "It's absolutely beautiful. Thank you father!"
He smiles, which is very uncharacteristic for him. My guard is up as he whispers, "Now come. I have some exciting news for you!"
I give Angela and wary glance as my father pulls me back toward the king.
"Ahh, Isabella. I was wondering where you went. I have a gift for you that will undoubtedly rival that beautiful dagger in your hands," he says.
I'm nervous. The look on Rose's face could send a dragon slayer running in the opposite direction. If she is unhappy, it follows I'm unlikely to accept what Royce offers.
"I have recently signed a peace treaty with King William of Mercia. His territory is the largest and most fruitful in the land, which could benefit us greatly. Upon seeing your newfound beauty and womanhood, the idea has been cemented in my mind that you should be his son's new bride. There, what have you to say?"
The words come slowly. All I want to do is yell and scream at this stupid, selfish man. But I will not embarrass my father. "This is an honour, my lord," is all I can muster.
"There you have it, my dear wife. She does not protest my decision," he says smugly. I will not embarrass my father.
"Of course not," Rose replies with all the sarcasm in her arsenal. She knows me well, she would understand perfectly my feelings on this subject.
"I will work out the details with your father, but dear Isabella, be prepared to depart within the month. I wish this union to take place as quickly as possible," he says sternly. My hand grips the dagger more firmly. I will not embarrass my father.
"Yes my lord. Anything you say," I reply as I bow dramatically and back away. Royce is pleased, Rose is livid, and all I want to do is cry.
I have no idea what goes on around me for the rest of the night. I'm too wound up about my betrothal to a complete stranger to care.