The men ponder over what I shared, but my noble accent confirms my social standing. I hate that it is this way, but sadly, I’m still attempting to heal a wounded England from my cruel predecessors.
“I know the Queen has an herb garden filled with basil and lavender. She often sits in this garden, watching her men train. If I weren’t privy to the running of her kingdom, how would I know that?”
The men look amongst themselves because they know this to be true.
Even if they’ve never met me before, it’s no secret I do this. I like to watch and suggest any tactics that may be lacking to the men who train potential soldiers for Northumbria. For who better to protect England than its Queen, a queen who overthrew those who dared challenge her?
“Aye, tis true. But if what ye say is true, then how can we pass Northumbria’s guards?”
“Why did you fall out of grace with her ladyship?”
“'Cause we won’t fight for a woman who sits on a stolen throne.”
“The rightful heir is Aethelred’s eldest son. Even though a bastard, his place is on that throne,” concurs another man.
This is troubling.
“How do you know of Aethelred’s young?” I ask because this is not privy information.
“Not all men are in favor of the Queen’s lenient ruling, so we began an uprising,” one shares, which turns my blood cold. “Her people starve because of the flourishing land she gives to Pagans! She is nothing but a traitor!”
Even in death, my brother still haunts me, it seems. I knew the time would eventually come, but I thought not so soon. This is very bad.
I do not know who is coming for me and my throne. Finding Sune and Loki just becomes more dire because my enemies are plenty.
Who is Lord Rufus working with? Prince Ludwig to ensure I accept his hand in marriage so a man can sit on Northumbria’s throne? Or my counsel, perhaps, who wish for Aethelred’s children to rule? Or does another threat loom?
When did my kingdom grow so callous?
The only way to save my land is for people like these six men to be made an example of. I tried to rule with kindness, but alas, that has been seen as weakness. The gall of these men to think they can dethrone me sets alight the fire in my belly.
I decide, here and now, that I will send word back to my faithful men and imprison my councilmen until I return. I cannot trust anyone. Until I uncover the coup, everyone is guilty.
But first, I need to slaughter these traitors and make an example of what happens to those who defy their queen.
“She is weak,” I say firmly. “How many men fight for your cause?”
“Hundreds.”
Sadness and rage overwhelm me. How did I not see this? I knew that many did not agree with my ruling, but hundreds of incensed men denote a war. And my sons are collateral.
“Who leads you?”
At the head of every army is a leader, and I need to know who that is.
“Lord Aethelbald, son to Lady Osburh and Lord Aethelwulf. He seeks his revenge on the queen who destroyed his family, as well as his kingdom.”
This cannot be.
The ghosts of the past haunt me.
“So I leave you this gift… I will do everything in my power to ensure your children never get on the throne. They will never know their birthright, for your name, your legacy, dies with you.”
Those were my parting words to Aethelwulf, my once husband, before I tore out his heart with my bare hands.
I cared for Aethelbald as my own when I was Lady Osburh’s lady-in-waiting. I always knew he was destined for great things—I just never anticipated it would be fighting him for my throne.
I left Aethelbald and his siblings in the care of monks, which seems to be my biggest downfall, because if all those who could overthrow me were dead, I would not be in the predicament I am in. Perchance I am weak, after all.
