Lioness
The castle buzzed with activity. Servants bustled this way and that under the direction of stewards and head footmen and under-butlers. Maids dusted every nook and cranny, cooks slaved away in the kitchens. Tapestries were beaten, windows were washed, candles were lit in chandeliers.
Today, Princess Eleanor of Anjou arrived in the capital. She had been threatening to do so for quite some time, and now she had finally made the treacherous journey across her own war-torn country and into Armorique to bang upon the doors and put her demands before the king. No one knew exactly how long she would stay, although the general hope seemed to be that she would not stay long, but courtesy demanded that a lavish welcome ball be held in her honour that very night.
For her part, Cinderella would not only have to host that event, but also to welcome Eleanor to Armorique alone, and convey her into the King's presence where she could formally request the aid of Armorique in Anjou's war against the Empire.
They had already lost another battle prior to Eleanor's coming.
As her maids helped her to dress and arrange her hair, Cinderella confessed to herself that she felt nervous, even if she could not quite say why. It was not as if she had not interacted with a born princess before, she had met and spoken with Frederica of Normandie after all. Why should Eleanor of Anjou be any different? Perhaps it was just the fact that Frederica had never inspired such a frenzy of activity in the palace that was making her tremulous.
"Does anyone know what Princess Eleanor is like?" Cinderella asked, as her maids helped her into a white-and-gold gown. "Have any of you met her before?"
"I met her at Lady Moneybags' soiree last summer," Angelique drawled. "She was quite delightful."
Cinderella chuckled, but said, "Be serious, Angelique, this is important."
"I think we've all seen her, at least, the last time she was here to beg for assistance," Theodora said, glancing up and down the line of her fellow Ladies in Waiting. "Anyone not? Except for you of course, Angelique."
Christine raised her hand nervously. "I wasn't at court at the time, I've never met her before either."
"You're very fortunate, all three of you," Theodora muttered.
"Is she that bad?" Cinderella asked nervously.
"It depends what you mean by bad, Your Highness," Augustina said.
"Well, can you try and describe her for me?" Cinderella said.
Augustina, Theodora, Serena and Hortense were all silent for a moment, appearing deep in thought.
"I would say she's rather vain," Theodora said.
"I would rather call her pompous," Hortense said.
"Fierce," said Augustina.
"Very proud, without a doubt," Serena murmured, her voice like silk. "She is descended from Vercingetorix the Gaul, and thus counts herself of the noblest lineage in all of Gallia."
"But don't worry if you forget that, your highness, she'll certainly remind you of it," Augustina said. "Over and over again."
"To be fair to her, she's quite amusing when she does that," Hortense said. "Part of what I said about pomposity."
"She looks down on anyone born lower than herself," Serena said, licking her lips. "Goodness knows how she treats her servants."
Angelique's eyes narrowed as Cinderella felt a trembling flutter in her stomach. Goodness knows how she treats her servants, and those who used to be servants. If Eleanor looked down on all those of less birth than her, what would she think of someone who was of no birth at all? Perhaps someone else ought to meet her on the steps.
"You are her host, and the princess of this land," Augustina said, as though she could sense Cinderella's nerves. "If she gives you any trouble, put her in her place, your highness."
"If she'll let you," Hortense said. "She may be amusing from a distance, but I wouldn't like to put my head in the lioness' mouth."
"She's not a lioness," Theodora said dismissively. "She's a beggar tramping from one land to the next trying to wheedle swords out of whatever king she can crawl in front of. Why are we bothering to welcome her at all?"
"Because if Anjou wins their war then it would be best if we weren't on awful terms with them," Augustina said. "But don't worry about her too much, your highness. She's only a woman, like you, and only a princess like you no matter how high she thinks she is. Don't fret. It isn't as if she's dangerous."
The Angevin convoy had stopped in the middle of a farmer's field, upon a dirt road a few miles distant from the capital of Armorique. The gilded carriage, decorated with the many-quartered coat of arms of Anjou, waited by the muddy roadside, while a squadron of tall dragoons formed a protective circle around it, keeping a watchful eye for any who might do Anjou's princess harm.
Princess Eleanor brushed some of her dyed bangs out of the way of her left eye with one hand, then went back to stroking the white cat in her arms. It purred appreciatively.
Eleanor paced back and forth upon the grass, casting her gaze now and then down to the prisoner who was being held, pinned, between a pair of muscular dragoon sergeants.
"What did you say your name was again?" Eleanor asked, her voice quiet and her tone deceptively mild.
"Kilpatrick," the Irishman gasped. "Wolfe Kilpatrick."
"I see," Eleanor murmured. Her men had caught this black-hearted rogue upon the road the night before, and when her interrogation had first begun she had questioned him more gently, allowing him to believe that he was taking her in with his pretty-boy charms the way he had taken in so many others. Such a tale he had spun for her, this dark and handsome Irishman. A tale of being a princess' lover, of how he had wooed and won and successfully seduced Armorique's own Princess Cinderella, and been taken to his bed every night until she swore she wanted nothing more than to run away with him wherever fortune might take them. But they had been betrayed, and Wolfe himself had been forced to flee with half the royal guard upon his heels, only to find sanctuary, at the lowest ebb of his fortunes, with Eleanor.
It was certainly quite a tale, and thrillingly told in parts with a number of sword fights and desperate escapes, but even if it had been true it would not have rebounded to Kilpatrick's credit to have left the lady he had ruined behind to face the consequences while he escaped unpunished. And that was only if it were true, because quite frankly Eleanor had not believed a word of it. Perhaps that was because she did not want to believe it, but she fancied that she could see the danger lurking beneath the handsome exterior, a danger that he had made no mention of. She did not believe he had the patience to seduce.
So she had started to question him more insistently, with the help of her gallant dragoon escort, and the result was that he was rather less handsome-looking now, with some unsightly bruises on his face. But he had told her the truth.
"You attempted to force yourself upon Princess Cinderella," Eleanor said quietly as she paced up and down. "You haunted her, you terrorised her, upon one interpretation I could say you tried to kill her. But you say you did not lie with her."
"No!" Kilpatrick gasped. "She wouldn't."
"And you did not force her."
"I…I wanted to prolong the game."
Eleanor's lip curled into a sneer. "You are disgusting."
"I meant no harm! She would have enjoyed it."
Eleanor rolled her eyes. "Jaroslaw."
Her polack sergeant slammed his fist into Kilpatrick's stomach, making him wince. The cat in Eleanor's arms meowed plaintively, so Eleanor stroked her some more until she was content again.
"Please, I've told you everything," Kilpatrick. "Please let me go."
"You haven't told me absolutely everything," Eleanor said. "You've left out the most crucial detail, in fact. Who put you up to it?"
"No one."
"Do not think you can lie to me," Eleanor snapped. "I know you have not the wit to think of this yourself, though doubtless your natural savagery led you to carry it to excess. But who as it, who first planted the idea inside your head?"
Kilpatrick shut his mouth, and stared at her defiantly.
Eleanor rolled his eyes. "Captain Delmas, your pistol please."
Captain Delmas looked more like a dockyard thug than the captain of a royal guard. Eleanor liked it that way. He drew one of the pistols from his belt and handed it to her.
"Is it loaded?" Eleanor asked.
"Of course, your highness."
Eleanor pointed the gun at Kilpatrick, holding her cat in the other arm and ignoring how she squirmed. "I rather need Princess Cinderella where she is, untainted by scandal," she said. "And in order to make sure that happy state of affairs continues, I need to know who her enemies are. A name!"
Kilpatrick said nothing.
Eleanor cocked the pistol.
"Lady Serena de Montcalm!" Kilpatrick shouted. "She told me that Princess Cinderella was attracted to me. When I found out that she wasn't, I decided to pursue her anyway. But it was Lady Serena's idea."
"Why?"
"She wanted to get the princess killed," Kilpatrick gasped. "So that she could take her place."
"Thank you," Eleanor said. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" And then she shot him. "Clean that up would you, Sergeant Kryzanowski?" she asked, blowing the smoke from out of the pistol barrel. "I confess I found that rather exhilarating. Do you find it exhilarating, Captain Delmas."
"Not anymore, your highness."
"How sad for you," Eleanor murmured. "Still, that is one person who will never spread his little tale to ears more willing to believe him. So, Serena de Montcalm." She held her struggling cap up to her face, and whispered in her ear. "We shall have to watch out for her, won't we? Yes, we will." She laughed. "Let us be on our way!" she cried. "Armorique awaits, and with it, God willing, the salvation of Anjou."
Cinderella stood before the palace doors, the breeze rustling beneath her skirt and chilling her feet and ankles as she waited.
She rubbed her wrist anxiously, the diamonds cold against her skin, and wondered how Princess Eleanor would react to her. It wasn't as if everyone in Armorique had rushed to embrace her despite her humble origins. Why should a foreigner, and one so notoriously proud at that, do any better?
Cinderella was dressed in white, with a form-fitting bodice and sleeves clinging tightly to her arms, just below the shoulders. A sash of cloth of gold was wrapped around her waist, and the sleeves and neckline were also fringed with gold. The skirt was full, like a ballgown for all that this was a day dress, with a petticoat rustling underneath it in the breeze, concealing her plain white slippers from view. Her hair was bound up tightly into a low bun at the nape of her neck, exactly as it had been on her wedding day for all that she had neither veil nor tiara now to cover up her head. Around her neck there hung a single string of diamonds, sparkling brightly in the clear and cloudless day, with another string of diamonds around her right arm in a bracelet that was neither tight nor loose but fitted almost perfectly around her wrist. Diamonds too her earrings, which dangled from around her ears and glimmered in the corners of her eyes. Eugene thought she looked lovely, but what would Princess Eleanor think. In her mind, Cinderella took all that had been said of Anjou's princess and could not help but conjure up someone like her stepsisters, but with more power and possibly more malice, too.
Perhaps that was unfair. She should not judge Anastasia and Drizella too harshly, not when she had decided to try and make amends with them, and with her stepmother. They could have treated her worse than they did, after all, as the example of Angelique showed only too well. No, she should think such things of Anastasia and Drizella. They were not so bad.
That didn't mean that she wanted Princess Eleanor to turn out to be like them however.
A trumpet sound rent the air in two, a high call repeated three times, each time louder and nearer, a jaunty refrain that rose into the blue even as the dust cloud rose above the heads of Princess Eleanor's convey as they thundered down the road, the hooves of the horses beating like drums upon the cobblestones as they seemed almost to be charging towards the palace.
So many riders. Cinderella was certain that Eleanor had brought more men with her than had come to escort Eugene and Cinderella home from their honeymoon, and they had been Armorican soldiers, and numerous enough. Eleanor had so many of them with her, men in green and crimson, with shining brass helmets and black horsehair crests. The banner of Anjou, a scarlet lion rampant upon a white background, flew proudly over their heads, snapping in the wind as the soldiers rode furiously on. And in their midst there was a gilded carriage, quartered with the arms of Anjou, in which rode Cinderella's vain, pompous, fierce, proud and quite possibly dangerous guest.
The Angevin horsemen rode through the gate and wheeled to the right, forming a column of twos passing by the palace, ignoring Cinderella as they rode by. The gilded carriage came to a rolling halt directly in front of the palace steps, the door into the coach aligning perfectly with the door into the palace.
The carriage was dark, and Cinderella could not see who was inside. She clasped her hands together in front of her, and smiled in what she hoped was an inviting manner.
The carriage door swung open, though no hand appeared to move it. Still Cinderella could not see who was waiting inside. She clasped her hands tighter together.
"I take it you must be Cinderella?" a high-pitched voice called out to her as a girl leapt carelessly from the inside of the carriage to land unsteadily at the foot of the steps, having to keep running for a few steps to keep from losing her balance. She laughed girlishly. "It's lovely to finally meet you. It's about time!"
Cinderella blinked. "I, um. Pardon me, but are you…"
"Princess Eleanor of Anjou, yes," Eleanor declared. "Who else would I be, arriving like this?"
"I don't really know," Cinderella murmured. It would hardly have been polite to say that Princess Eleanor was not what she had been expecting.
The princess of Anjou, whom some called the Lioness of that land, was a girl of about Cinderella's own age, and just a little smaller. Her skin was paler than fair, so that Cinderella herself almost seemed tanned by comparison, and it only seemed paler because of the decision that Eleanor had, presumably, made herself to dye her hair purple, although Cinderella thought that she could see some black at the roots that had not quite been touched. Her bangs fell down over her left eye, obscuring it from view, and though her hair was arranged in a high bun there was still enough hair left to fall down her back in a thick braid halfway to her waist. Her dress was as purple as her hair, with slit open sleeves that exposed her pale arms and a cut that revealed her petite frame. Her eyes were blue, a darker blue than Cinderella's, like a pool that you could not see to the bottom of. She wore a pair of delicate silver sandals over feet as small as Cinderella's own, they sparkled in the sunlight as she skipped up the steps.
Eleanor laughed again. "Not quite what you were expecting, I take it?"
"No," Cinderella admitted. "Not really?"
Eleanor smirked. "I suppose your ladies in waiting have been feeding you all the horror stories. What did they tell you? That I was proud and pompous?"
"Um…"
"Oh, don't worry, I know everything that everyone says of me," Eleanor said breezily. "As it happens I am proud, and I can be pompous. But I am not stuffy, at least not with my friends." She wrapped her arms around Cinderella's arm, pulling Cinderella quickly towards her so that she was leaning against the Angevin princess. "And you and I, Cinderella, are going to be the very best of friends, I can feel it."
"Thank you, your highness," Cinderella murmured. I think so, anyway.
"Oh, don't let's get into all that," Eleanor said. "Call me Eleanor, and I will call you Cinderella. You don't mind if I call you that, do you?"
"No, not at all…Eleanor," Cinderella said.
Eleanor smiled. "That's the spirit. Such a lovely name you have by the way, I'm quite jealous. Cinderella. Wherever did you get it?"
"My mother and father gave it to me."
Eleanor laughed. "I suppose I invited that, didn't I?" She let go of Cinderella, and took a step back to look her up and down. "Still, a very pretty name for a very pretty girl, don't you look absolutely darling."
Cinderella smiled as she took hold of her dress and spread it out in either direction. "It is a beautiful dress, isn't it?"
"I was actually referring to the girl, my dear, but yes, now that you mention it the gown is nothing to sneer at either," Eleanor said. She made a spinning motion with her finger, and Cinderella twirled on the palace steps, letting her white gown swish around her as her petticoat rustled underneath, spreading her arms wide as she spun in place with a bright smile and a glow in her cheeks.
Eleanor clapped her hands together. "Wonderful! You have a dressmaker worthy of your beauty and grace."
Cinderella's hand went to her glowing cheek. "You're flattering me, Eleanor."
"I am speaking the truth," Eleanor said.
"Then I'm sure Lucrezia would be thrilled to hear it," Cinderella said. "Perhaps you can tell her yourself at the ball tonight."
Eleanor's smile seemed to stick in place. "You invite your dressmaker to royal functions."
"I haven't," Cinderella said. "But I promised her that I would invite her to the next ball, and this is the next ball. She was so happy that I asked her to come. There's nothing wrong with that is there?"
"Of course not," Eleanor said quickly. "What is wrong with the unusual, after all, except that it has not yet been copied? And I shall be honoured to meet this fabulous dressmaker of yours. I might even ask her to do some work for me."
"I'm sure she'd be honoured," Cinderella said. "But now, I think I've probably wasted enough of your time-"
"You have not wasted a moment of it," Eleanor said. "But yes, you are probably right, we should get on." She held out her arm. "Will you take my arm, Cinderella?"
Giggling a little, Cinderella slipped her arm into the crook of Eleanor's, and let the other princess pull her close as though she were a man escorting Cinderella on their promenade. Cinderella lifted up the hem of her dress as the two of them began to walk through the corridors.
"I'm terribly sorry," Cinderella said. "I forgot to properly welcome you to Armorique."
Eleanor chuckled. "Believe me, Cinderella, I know exactly how welcome I am in Armorique, so there's no need for you to say words on behalf of your father-in-law that he doesn't mean."
That was too true for Cinderella to deny, so she said nothing.
"Congratulations upon your marriage, by the way," Eleanor said. "You must be thrilled."
Cinderella lowered her eyes. "I expected to be, but…"
"Finding it all hard to take in?" Eleanor suggested.
"Yes," Cinderella admitted. "I love Eugene so much, and yet-"
"This royal life is not for everyone," Eleanor said softly. "Even we who are born to the purple sometimes struggle with the burdens that birth has placed upon us. But to come to it by marriage, and to come to it from…from somewhere that has not accustomed you to such at all…I confess I can't imagine what that must be like for you." She grinned. "But don't worry about it too much, I'm sure that you'll do very well."
"What makes you say that?"
"Because I'm here now, and I'm going to be your friend," Eleanor announced. "I may not be any older than you, but I have been doing this my whole life, and so if you ever need any advice on what to do, how to act, or how to keep the peasants in line without shooting too many of them, then come to me and I'll show you the way."
"Oh, thank you," Cinderella said. She frowned. "But what was that about shooting?"
"A joke!" Eleanor cried. "Royal humour, you'll get used to it. So are you really happy with Prince Eugene?"
"Oh, yes," Cinderella cried. "He's just…he's so…" she sighed. "I don't know how to describe how he makes me feel."
Eleanor blinked, and for a moment Cinderella thought that she had tears in her eyes. "That is love, no? Instantly recognisable, yet utterly indescribable. Ah, here we are."
They stood before the doors of the throne room, where guards stood ready to open up the great doors and admit Eleanor to her audience with the King.
"Thank you for showing me the way, Cinderella," Eleanor said. "But I believe that I have to face this last bit alone."
Cinderella smiled encouragingly as she freed her arm from Eleanor's grasp. "Open the doors, please."
Eleanor frowned a little as the great doors opened, and Cinderella hurried into the throne room, to take her place beside Eugene on the royal dais beside the throne.
His Majesty the King sat on the throne itself, his feet dangling a little off the floor, tapping his fingers on the arm of one of the chairs.
Eugene, dressed in his hussar uniform, smiled at her as Cinderella reached him. "How was she?"
"Very nice," Cinderella said softly.
"I'm glad she restrained herself," Eugene muttered.
"Send her in!" the King yelled.
Trumpets rang out.
"Presenting Her Royal Highness Princess Eleanor Matilda Margaret Plantagenet, Princess of Aquitaine and heir to the throne of Anjou!"
Eleanor marched down the red carpet towards the throne. It was as though a metamorphosis had taken place in the few moments since Cinderella left her, for this was a different Eleanor than the one that Cinderella had escorted. She looked now as proud as Cinderella's ladies had named her, with her back straight and her graceful, cat-like gait. She looked, indeed, like a lion, and Cinderella could see now whence her nickname came.
She stopped at the white line that marked the point at which all approaching the throne ought to stop, and curtsied before the throne.
"Your Imperial Majesty King Louis, how good it is to stand once more under the light of your presence," Eleanor declared. "Your Highness Prince Eugene, good day to you and congratulations on a most excellent marriage. Long life and health to you and God grant great prosperity upon your state."
"Princess Eleanor you are welcome here," the King said, sounding more bored than welcoming. "Why have you come?"
"To ask for aid," Eleanor said. "To ask for Armorique to stand alongside Anjou in our noble cause and take our righteous part in our struggle against the vile huns of the Empire who assail us from the east.
"Just as my great and noble ancestor Vercingetorix, King of All the Gauls, did strive mightily against the tyranny of Rome, so too do our brave sons of Anjou now strive with might and main against the barbarians come from across the Rhine to pillage our lands with fire and sword. As true Franks did of old we struggle to hold back the tide of the Huns, the Goths and the Vandals, and who else in all of Gallia dares take our part against this monstrous foe. I, Eleanor of Anjou, hereby in the eyes of God and man challenge Armorique to do its part and aid your fellow Gallians in this bloody struggle in which we are engaged."
The King leaned forwards. "Some might call this a war of your own making, when the succession of Burgundy was disputed. Some might ask why we should involve ourselves in your dispute."
"Dispute!" Eleanor yelled. "Our fields are trampled beneath the jackboot, our homes are burned by monstrous Teuton savages, our women are carried away to be the spoils of war in Saxony and Prussia and you call this a dispute?"
"Anjou chose this war."
"Because Anjou was in the right," Eleanor replied. "Burgundy is ours, and the rich lands of Lorraine too, by right of our descent from Charlemagne and his grandson Lothair."
"Descent in the female line."
"The Salic Law applies in Salic Land," Eleanor said. "Not in Gallia, and not in Burgundy. This false claim of the Emperor would be mere brigandry if not practiced by a crowned head. Should we not fight for what is rightfully ours? Is it wrong for us to take up arms to defend our land, our home, our patrimony? Shall we yield the Rhineland and the Champagne unfought, undefended, and let the Germans gain a bridgehead on the sacred soil of Gallia?"
"Should we not decline to send our sons to war on your behalf, to bleed for your fields, to die for your homes, to suffer for your rights?" the King asked.
Eleanor flushed. "If Anjou falls, how long do you think it will be before the eagle turns both his heads north to gaze with greed and hunger upon Armorique? How long could you resist them alone? When the wolf is at your day you may regret that you allowed the greatest state in Gallia and chiefest prop of your defence to fall.
"But you need not regret. You have a choice. Join with us, and let us present a leaguer of a Gallia united, of all Frenchmen come together as one to resist this fiendish boche and his ambitions. If Armorique should join with us then Normandie will not be laggardly, and Provence too will no doubt take our side. With Flanders already allied with us all of Gallia shall stand as one against our eastern enemies, and we shall surely drive them back across the Rhine where they belong."
"And what," the King asked, his voice heavy. "Would we gain from this?"
"Your Majesty," Eleanor said. "Would you have me haggle like a fishwife in the market?"
"I would have you answer me with no flowers of rhetoric," the King replied. "What would we gain from sending our young men south to fight for Anjou?"
Eleanor raised her head proudly. "The glory of duty done," she declared.
The King nodded. "I see. Duty. I fear, Princess Eleanor, that my duty is to my own people, not to yours. Once again, I must decline your request for assistance. Armorique will not got to war against the Holy Roman Empire."
"Your Majesty!" Eleanor yelled, striding forwards two paces towards him. "When we have won our war and vanquished all our foes upon the battlefield, as I pray God we shall, then…" Cinderella saw that Eleanor was trembling. "Then we will remember who came to aid us when we called and who did not."
The King sighed. "If that is the case, Princess Eleanor, then you hardly need our help."