Violya

Chapter 17 Jessima-1

17

JESSIMA

“Sweet dreams, my love,” Jessima whispered to Eddie and stepped silently away from his cot.

The boy had grown in the past few weeks and his face had filled out. He was looking more like the Cleland side, but she was certain he had her dainty nose.

She had woken with him at dawn and breakfasted in her room while feeding him. It was his first nap of the morning and she knew he would sleep for an hour.

Now, she would dance. She changed into some old, thin cotton leggings and a loose-fitting bedshirt that she knotted at her stomach. Jessima pulled her hair into a high clasp then opened the window a crack to allow the mild winter breeze to circulate the room. Lian winters were warm, Ernie had informed her, and had laughed when she’d asked if there was ever snow.

Positioning herself in front of her full-length mirror, she found her starting position and ran through a series of movements, focusing on doing them in the correct order, pushing herself to hold a pose until her muscles ached.

Two weeks ago, when Martha had given her approval for activity, Jessima had forced herself to remember the Peqkian routine and each pose. Every morning on her journey back from Riaow to Cleland City, she had watched the Peqkian warrior Denya and her thousand-strong host flow through these movements fluidly and in unison. A stunning dance, that led on to Denya directing drills and training skirmishes, and all before breakfast. Then the warriors would jog alongside the Ferts on their horses for the rest of the day, never falling behind.

Jessima had watched as Captain Denya taught Toby every move, had seen him contort his body into strange positions and listened as Denya corrected his form or berated his posture. Jessima imagined Ramya guiding her, thought of her friend’s voice instructing and encouraging. It was her way of keeping Ramya alive.

I am strong for Eddie, in mind and in body, Jessima repeated as she twisted into a move.

This mantra bolstered her, and by the time she had finished her Peqkian dances she was drenched in sweat and determined to be a good mother for Eddie. And to be a good mother, she must be a good queen.

But how?

After her unsuccessful attempt to engage her subjects with a speech in the main square, she’d determined that if the commoners were not interested in her, then the wealthy and noble families would be. She’d receive them formally, offer refreshments and entertainment, learn more about them and their lives.

So, having not socialised at all since she’d arrived due to the princes’ restrictions, Jessima had ordered a banquet that evening to meet the Lian noble families. In Cleland she had attended numerous feasts and parties with Hugo, it was part of her queenly duties.

As she wiped away her sweat with the crumpled, dry end of the unknotted bedshirt, a knock sounded at the door, precisely on time.

“Come,” she said.

Three handmaids entered; two to help her bathe and one to take care of the room. Princess Georgina followed, fresh and awake. She ignored Jessima and went straight to Eddie.

“Hello, little brother,” Georgina said and gently tickled his chest to wake him. She had become inexplicably attached to the baby, and had helped Jessima with him every day for the past week.

At first, Jessima had watched her stepdaughter vigilantly, suspicious of her intentions. But there was nothing dubious in Georgina’s manner. She was his half-sister, after all. She had no reason to harm him.

“I’ve had every man in this place,” Georgina said, “and this little man is the only one who continues to amuse me.” She kissed the baby’s forehead as he grizzled. “I’ve had my years of fun, but now I’m ready to start a family.”

“With Hadley?” Jessima asked before she could check herself.

“Of course,” Georgina smirked and then sighed. “But Hadley would’ve been with dear Daddy on the battlefield. Dear Daddy didn’t make it… perhaps Hadley… the Cleland army…” Georgina’s voice trailed off. She rallied herself and draped Eddie over her shoulder.

“Your bath is drawn, my Queen,” one of the handmaids said.

Jessima kissed the back of Eddie’s head on her way to the washroom.

Georgina muttered, “Who is there to help them, Jessima, who?” before lifting the baby in the air and making him smile with delight.

“To be a good queen I must meet my people,” Jessima said.

“Not these people,” Prince Charles muttered under his breath.

She was waiting for her guests to arrive in the room next to the receiving area. It was the first time she’d seen Prince Charles since her rather curt banishment of him from the throne room.

“Did you say something, Prince Charles?” Jessima said.

The prince pursed his lips, still reeling from her reprimand.

His brother stepped in. “As I previously mentioned, my dear, we do not have nobility here as we do in Cleland. Wealth is distributed more evenly in Lian. The wealthy families are mostly merchants.”

“And, as I’ve previously said, Ernie, I will meet the heads of these families,” Jessima said.

“You do realise they are all women,” Prince Charles said, “all the men are in Fertilian.”

“Then I imagine I’ll find it easier to converse with them,” Jessima said.

Prince Charles snorted.

“They are… well… quite demanding, my dear,” Ernie said. “They are not high-class women of leisure and luxury.”

Jessima waved his pessimism away, and turned to a steward. “Are all the preparations ready?”

“Yes, my Queen,” she replied. “The first guests have arrived.”

“When the room is full then you can announce me,” Jessima said.

She’d commissioned a new dress for the occasion and had found handmaids who were adept at applying bone powder and stain to her lips and cheeks. She’d spent most of the day getting ready for the evening. Her jewel-decorated hair had taken hours to tease into place.

A grand feast had been planned, with musicians and the finest wine from Ernie’s cellars. She’d introduce herself to the important families in a magnificent, memorable fashion. Be the queen she was expected to be – regal and ornamental, as she had been in Fertilian.

The princes spoke to each other in hushed tones in the corner of the room as Georgina sashayed in and took a seat. Betsy bounded up to her and she petted the little dog, while holding her skirts away from the eager paws.

Jessima waited impatiently, resisting the urge to pick at a thread on her dress. When she could stand it no longer, she beckoned to a steward.

“Have all the guests arrived?”

“Perhaps ten,” the steward replied.

“Ten?” Jessima said. “Did the invite not go out to two hundred households?”

The steward nodded. “Addressed to the head of the household, as requested, your Grace.”

Prince Charles, cutting off his discussion with his brother, projected his voice across the room to infringe on her conversation. “Most women still believe the head of the household to be the male, as is God’s decree. And all the males are in Fertilian proper.”

Jessima clenched her jaw, realising her mistake. She should’ve specified the current, female heads of the household. “We’d better go and meet our guests who are here.”

The steward gesticulated at various servants and moments later the musicians started up a fanfare. The two princes entered the receiving room first, followed by Princess Georgina. Jessima heard their names announced.

She followed and the fanfare reached a crescendo as she entered the room. She swept in with a huge beam on her face as the steward announced her.

“Welcome, dear friends,” Jessima said, mimicking the words Hugo had used on many a majestic occasion.

Instead of the clapping and cheering Hugo inspired, Jessima was met with blank, stony faces. A handful of women stood before her. They were dressed in simple, functional dresses or in men’s trousers. Their hair was tied simply away from their faces, their appearance fraying around the edges with fatigue.

She waited for the steward to introduce her to each of the women. One stepped forward and Jessima gave this first woman her hand to kiss. As she did, an image flashed across her mind – of her hand holding the assassin’s dagger, a great rush of ferocity engulfed her as she remembered stabbing the man and hot blood spurting from his neck. She shook it off and turned her mind to entertaining, widened her smile and held her hand out firmer, but the woman didn’t take it, instead she nodded curtly.

“Lady Jane Fletchling,” the steward said.

“Lady Fletchling,” Jessima said.

She dropped her hand and looked the woman in the eye, fixing a kind expression on her over-powdered face.

“I think, Queen Jessima, I speak for all gathered here when I say that we are honoured by your invitation to dine,” Lady Fletchling replied, putting an immediate stop to Jessima’s rounds. “And we wanted to come to express our gratitude at your kindly thinking of us. However, we will not be able to attend the meal. With our men gone, we find ourselves to be running households, running businesses, raising children and keeping our families afloat. Sadly, we have no time to attend feasts, even those hosted by royalty. My sincerest apologies.”

“I see,” Jessima said.

She looked at the other women gathered. All nodded at Lady Fletchling’s words, and subtly shifted their positions so that they stood behind her.

“We have just one question, which we are hopeful that you will grant us permission to ask,” Lady Fletchling said.

“Of course,” Jessima said. “Please speak.”

“When will our men be coming home?”

Once, the lady’s direct question would’ve alarmed Jessima. Polite custom dictating those subjects were not to be broached at a grand dinner, and especially not to be answered by the Queen. But times had changed. She had changed.

Jessima cleared her throat. “I am not certain, Lady Fletchling. The situation in Fertilian is yet unknown. We await news.”

Mumbling fluttered across the women gathered behind the lady. They shared loaded glances at one another.

“There is no update whatsoever? We do not know if the Cleland army still holds the country?” Lady Fletchling said, unable to hide a tinge of desperation in her voice. “How… how can you not know? My husband and son are in Fertilian, your Grace. I just want to know they are safe, that they will come home.”

Jessima opened her mouth but she had nothing. Her heart sank.

Another woman said, “My husband is there and my father. I just want to know if they are alive. That’s all I ask.”

The voices of ten women launched into similar laments, all taking a step forward, beseeching Jessima for news of their loved ones that she could not give.

She shook her head and glanced at the two princes who stood to her side. Prince Charles had a look that said, ‘I told you so’. Ernie was distraught, these being women he had to keep on side, and wrung his hands. He launched himself forward.

“Ladies, please, Queen Jessima does not have an answer for you. If you are not planning to stay for refreshment and entertainment, then I would kindly ask you to be on your way. I will be in touch with regards to business matters as I very much value your contributions to the way Lian is run.”

Lady Fletchling dipped her chin. Her face, a few moments ago so hopeful, drooped and Jessima realised just how weary she looked. She bowed to Jessima. The women behind her bowed in turn and left the room, following an usher who directed them to the gate.

“Well,” Princess Georgina said into the stunned silence, “can we eat now?”

***

In the afternoon of the following day, after a morning of Peqkian daylight dances and history lessons, Jessima took Eddie from Princess Georgina.

Worry sliced through her. “He feels very hot.”

“He’s not been himself all day. Lots of tears,” Georgina replied.

Jessima held Eddie up so his little face was at the same height as hers. His cheeks were pale and his body was listless. She sniffed at his nappy and took him over to the changing table. She undressed him and gasped. His body was covered in purple splotches. She undid his nappy and gasped again at the fouler-than-usual contents.

Georgina joined her at the table. “Oh!”

“Get Ernie to call for Martha,” Jessima said.

As Georgina hurried from the room Eddie began to cry. The sound pierced Jessima’s heart in its profound unhappiness. It wasn’t a hungry cry or a full-nappy cry but one of pain. Jessima fastened on a clean nappy and held Eddie to her, his skin scorching her own.

Georgina returned. “A messenger has been sent to find Martha. I’ve asked for some cool water to be brought up.”