The Princess provides her perspective…
I stared in the mirror as I mulled over the new information I had picked up.
"Henry VIII, he just beheaded another wife because she did not bear him a son."
If one man was desperate enough to commit murder, how far would the prince go? I had to entice him to my chambers. I watched my maid as she combed my hair. I wondered how loyal she was to me. Louis XIII spent so much time with his mistress Diane that he neglected his own wife. He did not produce a legitimate heir until one fateful night when the only bedroom that was unlocked happened to belong to the queen. Perhaps the same trick would work for me.
I climbed into bed and pretended to read a book as I awaited my husband for the first time in months. If my servants had followed my directions, he would have no place to sleep tonight but in my bed. I feigned surprised when he staggered in, somewhat drunk. The self consciousness I suddenly felt was real, however. I felt a little stupid as I pulled the sheets higher to cover my deliberately selected sheer nightgown. I think I may have even blushed. I had planned this night carefully but now that it was actually happening, I felt unnerved. My heart thumped with exhilaration as he slid under the sheets. Bingo, I thought. However, he lied down, turned his back to me, and blew out the candle. I felt like smashing something.
The next morning, the court poet Chaucer told a hilarious story about a man who was so intimidated by his own wife that he never touched her. "He is afraid of being frozen by his Ice Queen," he crowed over the laughter.
At the end of the day I retired to my chambers and glanced through the new laws that were to be passed. I let the servants prepare me for bed and dismissed them. I was glancing over a new tax bill when I heard heavy steps in my room. "How dare you enter my private chambers unannounced," I demanded, without bothering to turn around. The guards were close by.
"My apologies," came the insincere reply. The sheet slipped from my fingers. I slowly turned and saw none other than my husband, sober and solemn.
"My lord," I curtsied, somewhat flustered. I had not anticipated another… visit. My cheeks grew warm at the memory of last night. It had been most humiliating.
"My lady," he bowed back. Without further ado, he strode over to the bed and glared at me pointedly until I joined him. He stiffly mounted me and lifted my skirts. I felt like I was in the middle of a medical examination. I stared at the ceiling and bit back a mean comment. I could not feel a thing. What an incredible waste of my time. I hoped this would be sufficient to produce an heir but somehow I doubted it.
After that practically eventless night, Chaucer's poem for the day was filled with exuberant praises of virility. As usual, I spoke with him after his performance. However, when he kissed my hand this time, he looked surprised as I palmed him my largest and most decorated ring as a token of my gratitude. His sharp and witty words had succeeded where my feminine wiles had failed.
While my husband and I ignored each other, I increasingly singled out the poet for company. I was amused by his hidden political commentary and wry criticisms. I bestowed him with favors and it was soon clear that I was his most powerful patron. Little did I know that this would lead to his downfall.
The Cardinal speaks in his defense…
It had not been difficult to rule this country with an iron fist, for both the king and the crown prince were content with mere trappings of power. On the other hand, I did not mind being seen as one of the many insignificant courtiers as long as I was free to have the final word on every piece of legislation that mattered. Alone. It worked well this way. I had made this country formidable to its neighbors. I had protected it from invasion and bankruptcy. I had rid the streets of its filth. The king may have been ordained by God to wear the crown, but I was chosen to use it. This woman, this servant with no governing experience whatsoever, could ruin everything. I could not let this happen. A new development was particularly disturbing.
Like everyone else in the palace, I was well aware that the prince had finally visited the princess in her bedchambers, despite all I had done to prevent this. I had even encouraged rumors that the princess was barren. She was already more of a threat than I liked. If she were to bear an heir, she would achieve greater standing in the court. She would eventually become the dowager queen as well as a legitimate candidate for regency, should her child ever assume the throne at an age too young. The king and prince are both in good health but the lives of monarchs can easily be shortened by a disgruntled servant or an ambitious noble. I wanted this problem eliminated before it grew out of control. I knew the perfect person for the job.
I sought the prince, who was, as usual, preoccupied with his favorite mistress. I requested a private word with him. "Your highness," I began. "This is most difficult for me to tell you but I suspect that the princess may be engaged in a most inappropriate relationship with the poet."
"Nonsense," the prince scoffed. "This is what you pull me away from Valerie for? She is merely enchanted by his blabberings."
"It is unnatural for any lady to be so interested in writing. I am afraid I find it rather obvious that she sees in Chaucer more than sonnets and jingles."
"Cinderella is not a usual lady," came the reply. The prince huffed away but I could detect his unease from his body language. He kept glancing at his wife, who happened to be walking with the poet.
I stood before the man who was greatly in my debt. We were standing in the middle of a great and empty hallway, any footsteps would echo and be heard long before the person came within earshot.
"Congratulations, you have won the princess's trust and admiration," I drawled. "You are in the ideal position to facilitate her passing."
"I'm a poet, not a murderer," came the reply.
"If it weren't for me, you'd be a starving writer, making a living off of selling sonnets to lovesick teenage boys."
"The princess would not see me cast out of this court."
"I want her dead!" I spat angrily. "If you do not do this, I shall have no choice but to eliminate you as well. You know this."
The peasant turned court poet looked troubled. "You coerce me into committing treason. I have no experience with violence, except that inflicted upon my person by bandits."
My expression softened. "I understand that you are a peaceful person, I did not mean to approach you so harshly. However, the princess is a threat to the stability of the state. There are many jilted royals and nobles who are insulted that our prince chose a peasant over one of their own daughters. This could lead to a coup or political warfare."
"Then the prince should have never married her in the first place."
"Cinderella's clever deception was not discovered until it was too late. Duty comes in many forms, my child. God wills it." I pulled out an envelope from my robes and pressed it into the writer's hands. "Give this to her. Say it's a draft of one of the poems you are writing. The paper inside has been treated with an undetectable poison. She shall die within hours of touching it. It will never be traced back to you."
With a look or resignation, Chaucer tucked the envelope into one of his pockets.
I spied out of the corner of my eye as the princess rushed over to the poet and engaged in eager conversation with him. It all seemed so innocent, a mere fascination with literature, but I could tell that Cinderella's interest in Chaucer went beyond the spoken word. She was taken by him.
She looked delighted and flattered as she took an envelope from Chaucer. She made as if to open it but he stopped her. "Please, read it in private," he begged. "I never show anyone my drafts, this is meant for your eyes only."
"In that case, I must seek solitude," she breathed. She rushed off to read the poem where no one else could read over her shoulder.
I suppressed a triumphant chuckle. Things were turning out wonderfully.
The Prince picks up the narrative…
Cardinal Richelieu hurried to me, looking flabbergasted. "Your Highness, may God forgive me, I am breaking my vows. But the poet, Chaucer, he confessed to me last night that he would assassinate the princess by giving her a piece of paper saturated with pufferfish poison. She thinks there's a poem written on it… It kills on contact… I just saw him give it to her…"
I took no time to act. I alerted the guards and we raced to the princess' room, where she was sitting at her dresser, carefully opening an envelope.
"No!" the cardinal cried. He snatched it from her hands and held it to a candle. Cinderella angrily opened her mouth to protest but I stepped in.
"It's all right darling," I soothed. "The cardinal just saved your life. That poet was trying to kill you by giving you a sheet treated with poison that gets absorbed through the skin."
"Why would he do such a thing?" the princess demanded. "And what of the evidence?"
Everyone's eyes shifted to the wrinkled black paper. Not even a corner remained intact.
"Don't you see? That devious assassin was trying to get close to you all along so he would be above suspicion," I cried. Whether or not this was true, I disliked how close he had gotten with my wife. At this point, I did not care if he was innocent, I wanted him gone. "The cardinal's word is enough," I said firmly. "He broke his confessional vows to save you, you should be grateful." I turned to the guards. "Arrest Chaucer. He shall hang for treason at dawn.
A/N: the scene where Cinderella secretly gives Chaucer her ring is a parallel to a scene in The Three Musketeers in which the queen does the same to D'Artagnan for helping keep her affair a secret. The tidbits about Henry VIII and Louis XIII are true. Like Cinderella, Queen Myung Sung Hwang Hoo of Korea was not given a chance to consummate her marriage for quite a while. The king showed up on the wedding night and bailed, never to come back for years. Puffer fish poison can indeed be very deadly in the right quantities. It can paralyze temporarily upon contact. However, diluted versions are sold as pain medications. It is also a very expensive delicacy since the fish had to be prepared properly if it isn't going to be poisonous. The final exam for a puffer fish chef is to eat a piece of the fish you have prepared yourself. Cardinals, popes, and priests of the time all had bastard children running around so my cardinal has at least one mistress. The political rivalry between a queen/mistress figure and a cardinal/some sort of relation to the king has recurred throughout history.
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