The Heir and the Spared

Chapter Four

Breakfast was a silent affair, as it often was. Servants who were obliged to stay up later than their master or mistress, and obliged to get up before them, too, dragged themselves out of bed before sunrise to have a morsel to eat. The meal was hurried, as no one wanted to be caught unawares if their lord or lady rose without them. No sound could be heard but the clatter of plates and scraping silverware.

By the time Sarah staggered bleary-eyed into the servants' dining hall, the cooks and fire-starters had already been up for an hour. Hearing Mrs. Brown barking orders at her lackeys always woke Sarah up a bit more.

She caught Philip's eye from across the long table and he nodded to her. He looked as weary as she felt. She suspected that, like her, he was exhausted not only by the lack of sleep they had gotten the night before, but by the weight of the decision hanging over them.

Almost as quickly as they had come, servants were hurrying out again once their plates were empty. Bess said nothing to Sarah, but reached for her hand to give it a squeeze, and gave her a long look. Sarah gave her a small smile to reassure Bess that she was alright, and squeezed her hand back. Then they went off to their separate duties - Sarah to the queen, and Bess to one of Her Majesty's ladies-in-waiting.

Sarah spared a second at the looking glass hanging at the exit of the dining hall; her teeth were clean but her hair needed to be smoothed. She took a breath before making her way to the queen's chambers.

Quietly, she slipped into the outer apartments. She nodded to the guards before passing into the queen's bedroom. Though Sarah always endeavored to close the large wooden door as quietly as possible behind her, the noise usually awoke the queen if she had not already started to stir. This time, Sarah found Her Majesty already sitting up in bed. She looked strangely small and wan in bed, with her dark eyes stark against her pale face.

"Good morning, Your Majesty," Sarah murmured with a curtsey.

"Sarah." The queen eased out of bed and put out her arms; Sarah draped the queen's dressing gown over her with care. "Have you and Philip made a decision on the matter of which we spoke?"

"Not yet," Sarah admitted, following the queen to her vanity. "I expect he will tell me his mind later today, if he is able to spare the time." The queen's eyes found hers in the looking glass, and Sarah added hesitantly, "That is, I would be honored to obey you, Your Majesty, so long as Philip is in agreement. I do not wish to carry out the plan with anyone else."

Exhaling, the queen nodded. Then she stilled as Sarah busied herself with hair-dressing.

"You are a good girl," Her Majesty declared. "Your loyalty is one of the reasons I chose you for this task."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Sarah murmured humbly. After Philip had broached the topic of their execution, Sarah rather wished she had not been offered such an "honor." Yet looking at the queen's face in the looking glass, with all of its tragic dignity, she felt her heart break for the woman. She knew that a lowly servant like her wasn't supposed to be allowed to feel sympathy for a lady so far above her station, but she felt it all the same.

For a few moments they were both silent. Sarah's thoughts whirled, and she was too overcome to speak. She had too many questions to ask, and almost did not wish to think upon them again - namely, the possibility of being caught and tried as a traitor. While the queen seemed content to sit in the quiet and muse over her own thoughts, Sarah was relieved when there was a knock on the door.

"Courier with a message for Your Majesty," a voice rang out.

Sarah secured the queen's hair deftly. Then she hurried to open the door a slit, and took the message with quiet thanks. She handed the little parchment to the queen, and returned to the hair. The top section of her hair was pinned high and out of the way so Sarah could curl the rest. Though the queen had bent her head to read the message, Sarah was accustomed to this.