There is no way I can sign this.
Dipping the tip of the quill into the ink pot, I drip blank ink on the page, wishing to sully this agreement to the depths of hell. Instead of signing, I scribble my own two terms beneath Lord Rufus’s.
He peers over my shoulder and grunts.
“We do not have an agreement if my terms are not met.”
“And what terms are they, my Queen?” asks Lord Gunter, unimpressed with my retaliation.
“The marriage can be annulled.” Lord Rufus forgot to add that minor detail in there with intent, no doubt.
Lord Gunter nods, as it appears he believes it will be love at first sight the moment I meet his jelly-belly of a prince.
“And secondly, if I am to face an untimely demise…the throne will be passed to my children—Sune, and Loki, and my children only.”
Lord Rufus’s nostrils flare, angered. Did he think I would be so stupid? “And if God forbid, something were to happen to them?”
“Then the throne will be entrusted to their father. You wish for Northumbria to have a king, well, alas, I grant you your wish.”
The ealdormen gasp, crossing themselves at the blasphemy I speak. They all know who my sons’ father is. Even though no one dares to speak it, they know my children have Northmen blood.
I’ve not been challenged because no one has the guts to do so. So these weak men obey me with their tails between their legs, fearful of the wrath I will deliver to them and their household if they defy me.
I have Wessex and Mercia on my side. I am too powerful for these men to fight me because what army could they form? The Danes fight for me. As do the Irish because we wish to coexist. It is these old-minded men who cannot let go of the past.
“My Queen…”
“How is your son, Lord Stephan, Lord Rufus? I saw his bride, Lady Geraldine, the daughter of the Duke of York, a few days back. She’s with child. I believe she is having a strapping young lad. I have a way of guessing these things. She is due in a few months’ time?”
Lord Rufus pales, for this is an outright threat. He wants to meddle in my personal affairs, then I can meddle right back—with my blade as I cut his son’s throat and stab through the belly of his first grandchild, and make him watch.
I do not wish for the blood of the innocent to be spilled, but I will do what I must.
“Yes, my Queen, that is correct.”
“I shall send my regards to them and Lady Geraldine’s family in York. And what of your wife, Lady Martha? How is she faring with her ailments?”
Lord Rufus is barely holding it together. I know all about him and his family and will use them as collateral just as he has with mine.
He needs to know that if I am to agree to this, it will not be me surrendering.
“Yes, that seems fair,” says Lord Gunter with a firm nod.
He does not know that the father of my sons is a Dane. He would not be so quick to agree otherwise.
“Excellent.”
“My lord—” Lord Rufus interjects, but this marriage has nothing to do with him. It is between Prince Ludwig’s adviser and me.
I sign my name at the bottom of the parchment with nothing but a smirk. My terms seem innocent enough, which is why Lord Gunter ignores Lord Rufus’s pleas and signs next to my name.
Little does he know, he has just signed his Prince’s death warrant because once I find my children, I plan to kill them all.
Lord Rufus glares at me.
I merely smile in response. “Why the sour face, Lord Rufus? It is a time for celebration, for I have made passage to see my future king.”
“Now?” he questions, paling further.
