The Prince's Concubine

11: The Prince's bedroom

The room was large and comfortable. In the centre stood a wide bed, with four posters but no curtain around them. So, this was where it would happen. Bilhah walked to it and perched on its edge. She would wait for him here.

A writing desk stood to one side, papers scattered across it and a bottle of ink ready to be poured into the well. A pen lay nearby, waiting to serve its purpose. Another table held books – four of them – one left open at the page where he was reading it. His books. His papers. She wanted to touch them, to read the page he had last read, to begin to learn what kind of man he really was, but Holy Mother's warning repeated in her mind so instead she stayed still, sitting on the end of the bed, waiting to serve her own purpose.

The room was plainly decorated compared to the others she had seen in the Palace. No tapestries hung on the walls, no ornaments adorned the surfaces. The wardrobe and cupboards were richly carved, but everything had its function. Even the screen, which surely hid the washing bowl, was decorated with an abstract pattern rather than painted scenes.

The minutes dragged by. The only noise was the crackling of the fire. The heavy door muffled any sounds from the guards outside. It seemed as if she was the only person alive in the whole Palace, in the whole world perhaps. Alone, with only the Gods watching over her. When would he come? How long would she wait? She must be ready, must have the right words on the tip of her tongue. She mustn't fall asleep, even though the bed was soft and the silence made her drowsy.

She stood up and paced a path between the bed and the desk. She would not fall asleep. She would be perfect, he would be pleased with her, and everything would go well. As she moved, she caught sight of her reflection in a small mirror, hung on the wall. The make-up made her eyes look different, the reflection didn't look like her at all. She raised a hand to wipe some of the charcoal away, wanting nothing more than to feel herself again, to feel certain that the Goddess had called her here, that she was ready to serve without fault, without failing before she had even begun.

She hadn't been alone for this long in years. There were always others, in earshot if not in sight, always other girls in groups arranged by age, dormitory and path, always Sisters supervising to keep them from straying from the true way. What if she was really a weak and selfish girl, what if the only thing which had kept her true to the Goddess was the constant attention of the Sisters, correcting her whenever she strayed? How would she keep on the path now she was placed? What if she made some unforgivable error, and was rejected? Oh Goddess, strengthen me. Make me worthy.

Noise erupted from the corridor. Voices, male voices, shouting and coming nearer, muffled by the door. One voice was deeper than the other. Both sounded angry, although Bilhah could not make out any words. Frightened, she faced the door, eyes fixed on the handle. It twisted, wringing Bilhah's heart with it, but the door only hovered an inch outside its frame.

"...can't just force me to agree with you."

"You disgrace our House. Not a word of thanks! Do you know how expensive they are?"

"It's wrong. Why should I be grateful that you perpetuate a system which preys on own citizens?"

"ENOUGH. You will stay in your room until dawn. Guards, see that he does."

The door widened enough to admit a young man, who slammed it furiously behind him. His brow was furrowed and his fists clenched, but his face was instantly recognisable as the man from the portrait under her pillow. Oh Goddess, it was him. It was really him, Just as fair and noble as he had seemed from the picture. But he looked so angry. Would he be violent with her?

He stared at her, open mouthed, his face radiating disgust. In horror, Bilhah realised she was looking directly at him, in contravention of everything she had been taught. Goddess! She lowered her face, drawing a deep breath into her trembling body, and forced out the words she had practised so many times.