The Diary of A King's Mistress

17th January 1668

        I waken to the fear of being watched. Similar to that in the library, I toss and turn and light the candle near by bed for better visibility. The only company I appeared to have was of my clothes from the day before and old food that I had not returned yet to the kitchen. But then my eyes motioned towards the window to see a shadow before me. A shadow of great height and build that made me stir to my feet and fetch the fire poker. I wielded it in my hand as a knight would do to his sword and ventured toward the balcony window. In a swift motion, I moved open the doors to find a man sitting upon the railing. His skin was scarred with deep lacerations that would most likely scar. But he wore a smile upon his face as if he was a long-time acquaintance.

        His face was very familiar to me but I could not guess from where or when I had seen the man before. The torso was molded physically intimidating and all lines of his body where in symmetrical perfection. Even his arrogant and even timid smile was perfect. Soft dimples hid within his cheeks and from me due to the nightfall. He spoke like a true gentleman, introducing himself as Lord Oliver Cley, a man of great title who had a misfortune with his carriage traveling to his family far East. He explained how bandits attacked the carriage and shot arrows at them. For some unknown reason, the man that stood before me only intimidated me because he made me incredibly nervous. He was truly a man of a woman's dreams, the man that I conjure up when I read the romantic stories. But there was something that made me cautious of the man other then the state he was in, but his story. Why at this time of night was a man traveling? And surely a man of his size could fend for himself. I asked him my concerns, only to be told he was due in a few days for a political trade and was thus far late.

        Still with the poker in my hand, I granted him access to my chambers, quickly covering myself with the long silk robe I was gifted by the King, along with many other garments. As he stumbled in my boudoir, it was irrefutable that an arrow had pierced his right shoulder. When he was sitting upon the balcony, his arm had been hidden from my view, but as I saw, my hands went to my mouth and I was unable to restrain my gasp. He giggled and jested how it scarcely hurt. Due to my father's daily medical lessons, I knew how to remove the arrow and still keep his shoulder of mobile action with only the consequence of slight pain.

        With the fear of discovering a man in my chambers, I had him bite down on my hairbrush that was far too thick for a young woman with fragile wrists to hold. He listened to me as I aided him and bit down harshly on the brush that his teeth left indents. There was something of the way his eyes met mine, but my focus was on his wound. As I tore it from his shoulder, he gripped onto the bed sheets and grunted as he bit down. The arrow fell to the floor and he held his shoulder and thanked me for helping. I had not finished yet though. There was an open wound that still was in risk of infection on his shoulder. If not mended, and infected, he could die or lose his arm. I placed a pot over the fire and boiled water as I was readying the bandages nearby. My fascination with botany along with the lessons, made it effortless to heal Oliver. My frail and trembling fingers wrapped the sodden bandages around his arm, under his armpit and over his shoulder, covering the wound completely. I explained how he would need to clean it or my work would have been a waste. He then displayed that arrogant yet shy smile.

        As sunlight peaked through the trees, we still had been talking of our lives. He told me how his parents were killed on a voyage to Green Haven in a violent storm and their bodies were never recovered. I confided in him of my confusion requested here and my brother's demise. His stories were about heroism and loss, love and tragedy, and far better than any story I have ever read. But it also made me sad. The man that sat before me, handsome and injured, had endured so much and trusted me with his story. In fear of being discovered with a man that was not the King, he prowled out through the door and ventured away from me. I was sad to know I would heal a man I would never see again, a man who knew my insecurities and dreams, my passions and desires, a man that was a stranger only a day ago, had become an admiration.