The Prince's Concubine

15: Escorted to the Tower

Queen Damayanti stabbed her needle into the embroidery and tugged the silk thread through. Anyone passing by would have taken her for a picture of serenity. Her frustration showed only in the tightness of her stitches. She had risen before the second bell and foregone her breakfast to make sure she would be waiting outside her son's door before he left his room. It was imperative she was the first to know how last night had played out, so she could be ready to mitigate whatever consequences might result if her son continued to defy his father. She came steeled for conflict and ready to plot a route around the trouble, but now she was bored of waiting. She hadn't expected to be here so long. She had completed three whole flower heads and was running low on silk. She tried to stich slower, but the task was dull enough at a normal pace. She had only chosen it as the least objectionable activity to be discovered doing, should the King also decide to check on their son.

Her guards were flagging too. She had surprised them by leaving her chambers earlier than usual, before the second night watch had a chance to be relieved by the morning shift. They made uneager companions on her mission across the palace to limit the damage from last night's debacle. One was leaning against the wall barely awake, and the other kept shuffling his feet in a way that infuriated her. Her son's guards, of higher rank than her own, stood sentry properly either side of his door. Now and again, when they thought she was not looking, she caught the more professional pair gesturing furiously at their counterparts in rebuke of their lax attention to duty. No doubt some appropriate punishment would be meted out on their return to the barracks once the guard captain heard of their behaviour.

Thus they had waited together for almost a whole bell, the four guards shifting and creaking as she sat sewing and ruminating on the possible outcomes of this particular crisis. At least her son's guards were still present. That reassured her he must still be inside his room and had not already absconded with the girl as soon as the dawn broke. Warrior knew what plans the boy might have concocted overnight, once the seeds of his anger cooled and had time to germinate into rebellion.

Oh, how much longer would he be? Surely he did not intend to miss the council meeting? Perhaps it was a good sign that he had not risen early. Perhaps Holy Mother was right and she was ignorant about her son's appetites now he was grown into a man. Perhaps he had bedded the girl after all, and there would be no quarrel.

And what of the girl? Who knew what she might have said to him, once they were alone together. The Queen knew better than most that concubines were sly creatures, given to scheming and rarely up to good. This girl was young, but the young ones could still be wily. January was so impressionable and had little experience of women. He would make ripe ground for her lies. And what if her worst fears were true? What if he had no taste for women at all, and had refused to bed her? How could the girl's tongue be stilled then? Gossip in the North Tower could reach the King's ears and might do more damage than whatever manipulation the girl could wreak directly, since January was not yet trusted with any meaningful power. Would this be the prompt her husband needed to condemn them both and choose another wife? Whether she knew it or not, this girl held the future of the succession in her hands.

Third bell rang, jolting her dozy guards awake. So now he was late as well as ungrateful. Did January really mean to escalate last night's argument and provoke his father with disrespect for his place on the council? A place she had worked hard to secure for him, with no thanks given. The King had meant to grant the seat to a more seasoned advisor, and she had only succeeded in promoting their son by flattery, arguing that the boy needed the opportunity to observe his father's wisdom at close quarters to have any hope of following his example. The boy had no idea how hard she had campaigned on his behalf, and no consideration for the foolishness of disrespecting such a tentatively given honour. If she agreed with her husband on one matter it was this; that January was far from ready to rule.