Violya

Chapter 3 Jessima-3

“Yes,” Prince Ernest replied. “Lian is home to ten thousand people, although currently there’s about seven thousand residents with the majority of able-bodied men at war in Fertilian. It is compact with mostly wooden buildings, but a few of stone. None of the original Dromedar mudbrick houses still stand from when Lian was Vaasar. There is absolutely no free space, every bit of land has a house, hut, stall or shack on it. I ensure that all space is used resourcefully and that the city, although crowded, runs proficiently. It is very different to Cleland City.”

Jessima watched from behind the curtain as animals were herded into the tiniest pens. Women scurried about, expertly weaving in and out of the other pedestrians, of the few carriages on the narrow roads, going about their business. There were a handful of children, the busy streets their only playground. All looked healthy and well-fed, the buildings and streets were well-maintained. It was clearly a wealthy city.

“So many women,” Princess Georgina grumbled with a heavy dollop of disappointment. “All the men away at this damnable war.” She hoiked up her breasts, as if having them closer to her face brought her comfort, and went back to staring out the window.

The war. In a week there had been no news, no tunnel runner had arrived. Lord Chattergoon had sent one of his men back to Fertilian but it would be weeks before he would return with any messages. And by then it would be old news.

The journey was excruciatingly slow. The women going about their business didn’t move out of the way of the carriage, and Jessima soon understood, there was nowhere to step aside even if they could. Georgina’s eyelids drooped with the rocking motion of the carriage and she rested her head against the padded interior.

“Wouldn’t it be quicker for us to get out and walk?” Jessima asked.

“Quicker, yes. Safer, no. The city streets are like a maze. I couldn’t risk losing one or both of you,” Prince Ernest replied. “You two would stick out like a beacon on a dark night by not knowing your way, or keeping up with the rapid pace of us Lianites. There’s no dawdling here. Furthermore, no one is yet aware you are in the city, and you’d draw unwanted attention to yourselves. There is a long history of assassination attempts on the city’s overseers, and on Fertilian royalty. Sadly, there are still a few Thorne snakes in the grass.”

Ernie indicated the two soldiers sat at the front of the carriage, either side of the driver. “Hence our need for them, and also for these.” He tugged at a heavy curtain.

“Have there been many attempts on your life, Ernie?” Jessima asked

“No, thankfully. Security is much more robust.”

“When was the last assassination?”

“Our dearest father, and your father-in-law, dearie. Lord Ernest Salmon Senior. Instrumental in building Hugo’s army and Fertilian allies until his heart was pierced by an assassin’s arrow in the street. After, our mother, Olivia, took over. The Thornes assumed that would be the end of it, but his death spurred mother – and Hugo – on.” Ernie scooped up his dog. “A remarkable woman, my mother. Feisty. Isn’t that right, Betsy?”

Feisty. Jessima rolled the word around her mouth like a boiled sweet. Until recently, she had been Hugo’s trophy. Silent and shiny, representing his great wealth and achievement. But ever since she’d returned to Fertilian with one thousand Peqkian warriors, she received more notice, and from some – respect.

Ernie adjusted his rump on the cushioned seat and tapped Georgina’s knee. She woke with a start.

“We are in the main square,” Ernest said. “Can you hear the women crying their goods? It has been the main square since before Lian was Lian, when it was ancient Vaasar and belonged to Drome.”

Both Jessima and Georgina looked out their respective windows. They were passing through a busy square with a river running through the centre. Three bridges crossed the river, all heaving with women and carts.

Jessima patted her swelling belly. “Tell me, Ernie, why so few children?”

“The wall around the city was built when Edgar, the first King of Fertilian, captured the city from Drome. The wall has been reinforced a few times, but it has never moved.

“In the two thousand years since, Lian has grown and been increasingly squashed inside these walls. That is why every useable bit of space has been claimed and built upon or used for farming or tending livestock.

“Perhaps one hundred years ago, a bumper harvest saw an influx of families from the mainland. Predicting catastrophic overcrowding, the Lord Overseer at the time tightened controls on new settlers, and decreed that only one child per woman was permitted. Those two laws have remained in place to this day.”

“Only one child per woman?” Jessima exclaimed, thinking of her ten siblings. “How in all Fertilian is that managed?”

“Well, for a long while abstinence was the only way. But that soon led to a very uptight population.” Ernie chuckled. “So, an ingenious butcher one day decided to use a cleaned-out sheep’s bladder over his… er… manhood to… um… catch the seed. It worked and has become a thriving industry. We’ll soon go through the pocket quarter, where you’ll see them out to dry.”

“I use them all the time when I’m not with Hadley,” Princess Georgina said brazenly. “I do believe I kept Lian in business the amount I had brought through the tunnels to Cleland City, don’t you think, Uncle?” She laughed.

“Well, I don’t know about that, sweet niece,” Ernie winked at Georgina. She leaned forward and squeezed his knee. Betsy yapped at her.

Jessima, a virgin before marrying Hugo and with no experience of using little pockets, said, “What happens if a woman has more than one baby?”

“There’s limited space in Lian. Any family with more than one child pays quadruple taxes. If they can’t pay, which most can’t, they forfeit their Lian residency and are sent to Fertilian, where there’s plenty of space for large families, but little opportunity and less wealth. Fertilian proper is not such a delightful place to live as Lian.”

“From what I have seen, Lian is certainly a wonderful place,” Jessima said.

“And that, my dear, is why we have such a roaring trade in little pockets.” Ernie guffawed and Georgina tittered. Betsy yowled with them.

Eventually their mirth cooled.

“Take a deep breath of that salt air, and look,” he pointed out the window. “Welcome to one of the most majestic sights, the sea!”

“Incredible,” Georgina said.

Betsy slid from Ernie’s knees and jumped about the carriage floor.

“Yes, I know, Betsy Boo Boo, it’s time to splash in the sea.” Ernie banged on the roof of the carriage and a moment later, it stopped. He opened the carriage door and the dog launched itself onto the rocks and then bounded straight to the water’s edge.

Jessima took in the endless blue and felt elated. Perhaps this place truly was paradise. She’d never seen the sea before, only great lakes and rivers.

“I’d like to get out and explore the pebble beach,” Jessima said.

“Absolutely not, my dear, best to stay in the carriage.” Ernie positioned himself to block the door.

“Do people swim in the sea?” Jessima asked, reminded of her swim with Ramya in the achingly beautiful Inaly Lake.

“Oh yes. It’s a lovely experience. But, of course, you can’t, my dear. You’re the Queen! You can’t be seen bathing in next to nothing. I’m certain Hugo and his court would deem that most improper, and heaven knows what Charlie would make of it,” Ernie replied.

For the sake of decorum, Jessima swallowed back the urge to shove him aside and fling herself at the beach in the same manner as Betsy. She believed Ernie and Charles had her best interests at heart, but they were suffocating her.

***

Jessima waited in a private, windowless hut behind the stage. Three weeks had passed since her arrival, and the princes had decided it was time she was presented to the people of Lian. Ernie assured her the Lianites were respectful and honoured their royals. And besides, rumours had spread of her presence in the city. So, rather than deny it, Ernie felt it would bolster their spirits. It was an excellent distraction, he’d said, as no news had arrived from the mainland about the war with the Thornes.

Lord Chattergoon, although he resided at Ernie’s fortress, spent most days occupied with business at the tunnels. There had not been one tunnel runner as yet with a message. A fact he found discouraging, as he’d told Jessima at breakfast that morning when she’d asked.

The women of Lian were getting impatient for news of their loved ones, just as Jessima was growing impatient of news of the King… and Toby.

Prince Charles had just finished a long and rather dull sermon and Prince Ernest was now on stage doing the honours to introduce her.

She swirled in her new dress and savoured the delectable swish. She had commissioned the garment for the occasion to show off her growing bump and she knew she looked spectacular. Her long blond hair had been teased into an elaborate design with curls, plaits and pearl combs. It had plenty of height, all the better to offset her tiny frame. Her face had been powdered and painted, and her neck and wrists heaved with fine jewels.

Hugo had always conducted all public speaking, and although this was her first speech as Queen, Jessima wasn’t nervous. Ernie and Prince Charles had written a speech for her, and she had rehearsed it until every word tripped off her tongue with little effort.

“Oh, I am so excited,” she said to one of the handmaids bustling about her in the hut. “This will be just like my performances as a child. My father had a stage built in our home for his eleven children’s little shows. He used to invite families from all the neighbouring estates to watch. It was the only time he paid me any attention.”

The woman smiled but didn’t answer. Jessima desperately missed her handmaids Marcy and Tina back at Cleland Castle. They had become like friends.

A knock on the hut indicated the stage was set for her grand entrance.

She waited for the handmaids to gather up her skirts and shimmering train and a steward helped her from the hut and up the few steps to the stage.

“May I present your Queen. Queen Jessima!” Prince Ernest announced.

It was mid-morning, the best time according to the princes as the marketplace was at its busiest. Briefly, after waiting in the dark hut, the sunlight blinded her as it had done when she had emerged from the tunnel. She beamed brightly until her eyes adjusted and lifted her hand in a royal wave to the crowd.

She was expecting a resounding ovation in return, but there was none.

There was no applause, because there was no crowd. No faces eagerly turned to the stage to see and venerate their Queen.

That was not precisely true. There was a crowd, but none of them paid her any attention. The women were buying and selling, shopping for goods, packing and unpacking fruit, haggling over the best cuts of meat. They wore practical, working clothes. Many were dressed in typically male garb. They had taken on their men’s jobs, when they had gone off to war.

Her handmaids fussed about her person, organising her train. She gestured for them to leave her, suddenly feeling overdone and out of place in her finery.

But this was a show, and the show must go on.

“Ladies and children of Lian,” she began, projecting her voice as her childhood acting master had coached her. When no one turned, she repeated herself, louder, more enunciated.

“Ladies and children of Lian, it is a pleasure to be here in this wondrous city. As your Queen, as the Queen of Fertilian, I am proud to stand here before you—”

A loud cough at the side of the stage distracted Jessima. She glanced down. A lone woman stood there. She folded her arms as she peered up, and Jessima smiled brightly at the woman.

Work the crowd, the voice of her master reminded her. And since Jessima’s crowd consisted of only this one lady, she walked towards her and crouched, offering the woman her hand to kiss.

“I am proud to stand here before you—” Jessima continued.

The woman looked at her outstretched hand, confused, and then brought her own out and offered it to Jessima. The queen faltered as blackened, filthy fingernails hovered in front of her face.