Game of Courts. (#1 Nobles)

A Frenching English Meet

Chapter 4

After breakfast, which she had effectively declined, Amanda squared her shoulders continuously, running different scenarios through her mind as two guards and her new maidservant lead her to meet the queen. She looked at her little group in disgust, she should have more than this, she deserved more than this. For God's sake, these Englishmen were pissing her off with their shabby treatment.

More than being angry, she was bothered. If the king had not bothered to see to the duty of making sure his wife was comfortable in his castle, his country, he had already shown his hand and the voice he held had her at disadvantage and the queen already, in this infant game of chess, had an upper hand.

For God's sake.

"We're here."

A little flutter of bother flapped, but she forced it down. The first step to losing was showing fear. The door was opened, like the gates of damnation opening to swallow her, condemn her for her sin, yet she must face it with goodwill. She had to, she had no choice.

The hall was grand, airy with high windows and littered with gowns. The gowns were everywhere and from the type of gowns they were, these were women of high standing who served as the queen's ladies-in-waiting. Potential candidates for the king. Rivals. How direct, the queen was sending her a message in English that the French girl heard loud and clear.

You are not welcomed here.

If only it were in her power.

She stopped just before the dais where the queen hung on her throne and curtsied, the light chatter, giggles and the light harp that filled the hall came to an abrupt stop.

"Your highness" she whispered in respect before straightening and tasting the air.

There she was, the queen who had a taste of English and forgot home. The cousin to Louis, the king and a woman greatly despised by too many Frenchmen to dare step foot on French soil. The woman who was going to be her greatest obstacle because once, she had been like Amanda, sent to enter the French court but instead of surrendering the power and the court, she got mad with it and built higher fortresses. It was a miracle that violent clashes had not occurred yet and French blood was yet to be spilled on English soil of late.

Judging from the frosty and hateful look she was getting, the miracle had stretched to its end. Amanda sighed inwardly, it was really a bother to combat with people despising her upon sight, especially the female folk. There was going to be no winning over, the fact that this English queen had not come down from her throne to kiss her cheeks, take her hands and show a sign of kinship meant that the battle line had been drawn, not against her thankfully but against anything French and she was sure this woman would have to be iron cast in hell first before she let another French girl sit on the throne of England.

Was there an apothecary nearby where one could purchase poison discreetly?

"You didn't arrive when we expected you to." the royal paused.
"So you could forgive our lack of preparation, we assumed we had counted the days wrong and perhaps next month."

Amanda smiled gamely. "I do not fault the bad reception of your highness for I have lived closely at the castle of France. It was merely an issue of bad wind."

"Have you spoken to my son? I assume you've met before coming here, or am I wrong?"

"No, your highness, I have met the king and he was glad to see me." the queen's eyes darkened with that lie. "He informed me of the tutelage before the wedding."

"Yes, as tradition holds, I am to pass on my knowledge of running England as its queen. But, I must apologize in advance, the Englishmen have little taste for France and its cuisine and I'm afraid you would have to bear with English foods. But it should be of no discomfort as you shall return home, back to France, very soon."