Chapter 2

            She had been nervous all that day.  Lord Mordrid was in a foul mood, which always boded ill for her.  His best hunting dog had run away and he had suffered great losses during his gambling binge the previous night.  What was more, he had come home drunker than ever before and spent the whole day suffering from its ill effects.  She could only hope that he would go seek solace in his favorite whorehouse and leave her be.

            It was hard for her to believe that she had ever once been happy.  The previous earl had been a decent man and his wife had been quite kind.  Her parents had been their servants for many years, and the earl and his wife had allowed them to marry.  When she was born, the countess even agreed to give her mother two days' leave.  Although her parents had been busy, hard-working servants, they had always had time with her and had lavished their love on her.  The countess took a shine to her, pleased with her inquisitiveness and her mild temper.  She had been a very quiet child, which was pleasing to the countess, who frequently suffered from intense headaches.  In fact, the countess had nearly found the servant child more pleasing than her own child, the future earl.  She took the girl under her wing, allowing her to be taught how to read and write and how to stitch, as well as some of the more refined arts that were nearly always reserved for women of a higher class.  The young servant had spent many a happy hour at her mistress's side, reading to her or conversing with her on a diverse number of subjects.  And, when the day was done, she returned to the open arms of her parents, where she knew true peace.

            The aforementioned future earl grew up and, as he did, began to take notice of the much younger servant girl.  He had always been somewhat jealous of the attention she received from his mother and had occasionally tormented her by boxing her ears or pulling at one of her curls.  However, he grew more and more wicked as he grew older and older, until all of the servants began to be afraid of him.

            Fortunately, shortly after her twelfth birthday, the then eighteen-year-old young earl left his parents' country home for their home near the castle, where he could move amongst the members of the king's court more easily.  He returned to the country two years later, after the death of his father.  He had gained possession of the title and the wealth that came with it and was grown even more ruthless and wicked than ever.  During his absence, the servant girl had begun to blossom into womanhood, which the earl did not fail to notice.  He would catch her alone in the hallways and pin her against the wall with his hard, repugnant body and laugh at her as she cried and pleaded for the preservation of her chastity.

            Still, the servant woman did not know true unhappiness.  As cruel as the earl was, his mother was still alive and still present to protect her from his unwanted advances.  Moreover, she still had her own parents to turn to, who loved her more than ever before and showed her whenever they had the chance.  At last, the earl left again to rejoin the court and the servant breathed a sigh of relief, certain that he would take a wife and remain at court, leaving her alone at last.  Her happiness was complete, at least temporarily.

            Tragedy struck just after her fifteenth birthday.  Cholera swept through the country mansion, brought on by the damp, chill spring.  Terrified, everyone crept around as silently as possible.  All laughter and joy seemed drained from the house.  The servants took to carrying herbs and building small shrines before which they prayed almost constantly.  After three months, the sickness was over.  Nearly everyone in the house had fallen ill and few had survived.  The sickness had carried off both of her beloved parents as well as the kind countess, but it had spared her, even though she had wished, and even prayed, to join those that she loved in death.

            She was still weak when the earl returned to bury his mother.  He did not pay her much attention at first because he was afraid of taking ill.  However, the reprieve was only temporary and in a month's time, he had settled all affairs and was eager to return to court.  This time, he would take the servant girl with him.

            It was when she reached the earl's home near the court that her true miseries began.  The earl's previous overtures to her had been nothing compared to what she suffered almost daily in his household.  He still had not taken a wife, and even though he frequented prostitutes and courtesans, he turned his attentions to the servant more and more often.

            She had grown very beautiful over the years.  She did all she could to minimize it, to try to make herself invisible to the earl, but it was no use.  He was determined to conquer her, but to do it slowly.  She could see a wolfish look in his eyes when he looked into her wide, brown ones and saw the innocence and purity there.  He commented on her golden, curly hair, caressing it and sniffing it with a sort of feral pleasure.  She took to pulling it back from her face into severe rolls and then covering it altogether with small, white caps.  He would then comment on the paleness and perfection of her skin and the lusciousness of her lips.  Worst of all, he took to commenting on the fine line of her bust, on the delicateness of her ankles, leading him to muse aloud before her about what else could be found under her skirts.  He would then grab her and hold her by the waist while his hands would scramble up her skirts.  She always managed to fight him off, but she knew that it was simply because he allowed her to do so.  He was torturing her slowly but surely and when he had managed to break her spirit, he would take what he wanted and she would be powerless to stop him.

            Knowing all of this, it was a relief to the servant when he became angered and would rain blows down upon her.  She would rather he bruised her body than her soul.  She could bear the stain of bruises, but not a stain upon her chastity.  Still, for all that she learned to withstand the blows, they had been intensifying steadily until she began to fear that he would beat her to her death.  This had culminated with the scene on the river while the prince sat on his barge with the Princess of Spain.  The servant had grown so weary that she had closed her eyes and accepted certain death before the prince had intervened.

            And so, when she woke the morning after her ordeal, she sat bolt upright in bed and began to jabber nervously.  The last three years of her life had been such a hell that she could not believe that she found herself in a clean, white bed wearing a clean, white gown.  The servant women came to soothe her, gently pushing her back against the pillows and speaking nonsense to her until she grew calm again.  They then began speaking of her as if she were not there.

            "The poor li'l soul," one woman said sympathetically, as she cast a benevolent gaze at the servant.  The woman was old and very wrinkled, but she looked like some sort of loving grandmother and so the servant felt the clenching bands across her chest slowly relax.

            "Who'd 'ave ever thought the earl was such a beastly man?  'e 'as such courtly manners," another woman replied.  This one was very, very thin so that her bones poked out and made her look sickly.  Her skin was pasty white and she was quite homely, but her voice was extraordinarily lovely.  It soothed the servant girl.

            The women continued to chat until the physician arrived.  He had a long, gray beard and wore a long black robe and frowned whenever he was deep in thought.  He came up to her and peered at her over the rims of the spectacles that he wore perched on the edge of his nose.

            "She is quite battered and she did take a chill, but she runs no fever.  I will dress her wounds and they will heal soon enough.  She will be fine.  I do not believe there will be any lasting damage," he told the young man who was with him.  This one was dressed in breeches, a shirt and jerkin, and tall brown boots and carried a quill and parchment.  The servant could tell that he was a scribe.  The man nodded and scribbled on his paper.

            "I shall carry your report to His Highness, the prince," the scribe said. 

            "Allow me to dress the wounds and then we shall part," the physician replied.  His touch was very gentle, almost soothing.  He seemed very wise and the servant was surprised to find herself quite at ease with him.  He worked quickly and soon the two men were preparing to leave.  Just as they reached the doorway, they quickly dropped to one knee, bowing and scraping.  The servant turned her head curiously to see what was happening and saw that the prince was standing in her doorway, looking at her.

            He was really quite magnificent to look at, though she quickly averted her eyes out of a sense of propriety.  He wore his striking red-brown hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, which curled elegantly against the back of his neck.  She could not see the color of his eyes, but she could see that his face was very pleasant and kind looking.  His body was broad through the shoulders and chest and looked very powerful.  His elaborately embroidered blue velvet doublet and breeches accented his powerful build.  He wore snug black leather boots that hugged his well-formed calves.  An elegant blue velvet cape with an enormous gold clasp was thrown back over one shoulder.

            "Please, rise gentlemen.  How is the woman?" he said, his voice melodious and deep.

            "She appears to have been beaten quite brutally, and not just last night.  She bears some bruises and cuts, which show varying stages of the healing process as well, and I saw several scars.  She must feel pain, but she will recover.  She is in shock, but she did not fall feverish during the night," the physician reported.

            "I am very glad to hear it.  You have served me very well.  Now, I wish to see her and attempt to speak with her one last time before we have our audience with His Majesty," the prince said.

            "Aye, Your Highness," the two men replied, bowing and stepping aside to let him by.

            She kept her eyes averted as he approached her bed.  She did not look up even when he was standing before her, so he pulled a stool over to her bedside and sat down, forcing her to look at him as he had the night before.  She found it very hard to breathe with him so near.  As she raised her gaze to his, she could see him wince at the state of her face and she felt sheer horror.  It was bad enough that someone as lowly as she should be presented to His Royal Highness the prince, but especially humbling to have it happen when her appearance was so offensive.

            "Do you know where you are?" he asked her, but she remained silent, afraid to speak.

            "Can you speak?" he asked, at last.  She looked at him with frightened eyes.

            "Everything is all right," he said, his voice so gentle she wanted to weep.  "You are safe here and my physician will take good care of you.  What is your name?"

            "Keelin," she said, deciding that it was better to speak.  Her voice sounded all croaky and she felt more inadequate then ever.  She was not really afraid of the prince.  After all, he seemed a kind enough man.  It was more that she was so in awe of him that it made her feel sensations quite similar to regular fear.

            "Keelin," he repeated, almost as if testing the sound.  "And how long have you been in the service of the Earl of Essex?"

            "I was born into his lordship's service, Your Highness," she said.  She had to speak very slowly because her throat felt very scratchy and her cut and swollen lips made it hard to form the words.  "My parents served the former earl and countess."

            "I see," the prince replied thoughtfully.  "You were born here then."

            "Nay," she said, her voice not much more than a whisper.  "Your Highness, I lived at his lordship's country estate and have been here just these three years past."

            "How old are you?"

            "I have just entered my eighteenth year, Your Highness," she replied.  She plucked at her covers nervously.  She wanted to clutch her dressing gown closely about her throat, but she did not want the prince to think she believed him to have evil intentions.  Instead, she picked at the blanket.

            "And how has the earl treated you throughout your life?"

            She swallowed nervously and shifted her gaze away from his, staring intently at her plucking fingers.  She felt the bile rise into her throat as panic seized her.  Surely she could not tell him the truth.  She knew the order of things.  If she were to speak ill of her master, they would think her willful and disobedient and she would be punished accordingly.  She remained silent, hoping the prince would give up and go away, but he did not.

            "Can you not answer me?" he asked, at last.

            Now she was truly scared and knew she was trapped.  She would have to give him some sort of response now and she searched frantically for just the right one.  "His lordship has been a fair master, provided me with food, clothing, and shelter, Your Highness," she replied.  She could not keep the quiver from her voice and she felt the dangerous prick of tears in her eyes.  Her plucking became even more urgent.

            "You are not telling the truth," the prince stated bluntly, his voice sounding very angry.  She felt as if her heart had stopped as she darted a quick look at his face.  It was tense with barely controlled rage.

            "Upon my honor, Your Highness, I swear that I am telling the truth," she said, desperately.  She cursed herself as she lost control and the tears spilled from her eyes.  She knew that her punishment would be severe, that the earl would be savage with anger at the trouble she had caused him.

            "I want you to look me directly in the eye and swear upon all that is holy that you are telling me the truth," the prince said, his words slow and distinct.

            She fearfully raised her eyes to his steady gaze and felt what was left of her self-command crumble.  She burst into tears of unadulterated terror.  "Please, Your Highness, believe what I say," she begged between sobs.

            The prince's expression changed, softening as he looked at her and when he spoke his voice was low and soothing.  "Do not cry," he said to her.  "You need not shed any more tears.  I know you fear punishment from your master, but you have no need.  You shall never return to the service of the earl.  You will remain here where you are safe.  'Tis the earl who shall be punished, for his defiance of his king."

            Keelin gazed at him fearfully, not quite believing that what he said was true.  She feared that it was all a dream or that the prince was mistaken.  He met her gaze directly and she could see determination in it, causing her to feel a small wash of relief.  Still, she could not speak for fear that her words would change the prince's mind.

            "I can see that you are very weary," he said, at last.  "I shall take my leave of you now so that you may rest.  'Tis my wish that you have a swift and full recovery.  And I give you my word of honor as prince of England that you shall remain here and that you shall be safe for all the rest of your days."  With those words, he rose and was about to turn away from her when she seized his right hand and kissed the royal ring that he wore upon it.

            "Your Highness is most merciful.  I am forever in Your Highness's debt and shall make it my mission in life to serve you in the hopes that I may one day be worthy of such mercy," she declared passionately.  She could see the startled look in his eyes and she immediately dropped his hand, bowing her head.  She heard him clear his throat as if he was about to reply, but then he turned and left the chamber.  She was too mortified to watch him leave and so she resumed her nervous plucking at the blanket.