It was the trumpets blaring that woke Adeleina from her uneasy slumber. She jerked upright, her eyes bleary, throat parched, and sheets crumpled. The sky outside still held signs of night, but dawn was already arriving and the sun was fast approaching. Adeleina, despite the untimely alarm, grinned. The trumpets could only mean one thing. Her father had returned with his men!
Adeleina scrambled out of bed and swiftly replaced her nightgown with a stiff corset and silk skirts. Her fingers fumbled with the fabrics as she dressed. In the three days of her father's absence, Adeleina had been worked to the bone trying to keep her restless guests organized. Every night she had collapsed onto her mattress, too weary to bother pulling the blankets around her. Even Darcy, cheerful and lively as she was, had grown sluggish and short of temper trying to feed the dozens of gluttonous nobles residing in Castle Corandell. Every waking moment was spent in an attempt to keep the castle from falling into utter disarray, until Adeleina was sure that if her father did not return soon, her throbbing head would be sprouting grey hairs.
Finally finished tying up the strings of her corset and gown, Adeleina hurried down the familiar stone steps that led to the great hall. Her fingers rubbed at her neck as she dashed along as fast as her burdening skirts would allow. By the gods, her neck ached!
When she whisked through the doors leading to the castle's main hall, Adeleina nearly crumpled to the floor in relief. Her father stood in the middle of the hall. He was well and truly back, healthy and whole and most definitely not injured or assasinated. Though, Adeleina couldn't help but also notice the dark shadows of worry etched across his face. His knights, too, wore the same fearful expression. Adeleina's heart grew cold. What terrible things had they seen at Ersaw?
"Father," Adeleina cried in greeting as she made her way to burly king. She threw her arms around him, suddenly feeling like a child again nestled in her father's arms. His presence in the castle again was so overwhelmingly relieving, she felt the anxiety and worry that had haunted her for the past three days slip away. Everything would be alright now. The king was back.
"Adeleina," her father greeted her in response. His own arms engulfed Adeleina in a solid embrace. "I trust you've managed to keep the castle in working order, and our guests pacified for the moment?"
"It wasn't easy, but I suppose I have," Adeleina beamed up at her father like a child expecting praise. He chuckled and ruffled her hair, as if she were five years old again.
"Sire," one of the knights prompted, looking impatient with the niceties. The king's face hardened again into a grim expression, his eyebrows furrowing into troubled creases and his mouth turning downwards into a set frown.
"Send for the council, Sir Ackerley. We have much to discuss." The knight who had spoken up nodded and left the hall.
"What happened in Ersaw?" Adeleina asked, unable to withstand the curiosity any longer. The worry that had been gnawing at her bones for days returned, her knees weakening until they were nearly ready to collapse. The thick tension that hung in the room spoke of bleak circumstances and ominous futures. Never in her life had Adeleina seen her father so fearful, yet so angry and somber.
"Terrible things, Adeleina," was her father's reply. Adeleina nearly groaned in exasperation, but Sir Estwick and the rest of the council chose that moment to burst through the doors of the great hall.
"Welcome back, my liege," Sir Estwick delivered a short bow. "My lady," he nodded at Adeleina.
The rest of the council, twenty or so men, followed suit as they each in turn welcomed the king back to Castle Corandell. In truth, the entire council was made up of nearly a hundred men, but the twenty-two who were gathered in the great hall now were head representatives of each of the fiefdoms in Corandell. They pulled out chairs along the long table in the middle of the hall and sat down. Adeleina mimicked them hastily, drawing her own chair and sitting at the end of the table next to her father. He did not question her actions, though it was rare of her to participate in council meetings. Adeleina silently thanked him in her mind. She did not intend to call attention to herself, but rather wanted to find out what exactly had happened in Ersaw three nights ago.
The king sighed heavily, rubbing his temples as he did when fatigued, before beginning.
"As you all know, Sir Ackerley, Sir Paige, Sir Isaac and I rode to the village of Ersaw after we recieved notice of an attack."
The council did not speak. Outside the stone walls, the sun had begun it's steady climb into the sky, flushing away the cold stars and replacing them with warmth and light.
"What we saw there was a truly gruesome sight. The entire village had been razed and burnt to the ground. Foul, black smoke still rose from the remnants of houses and buildings. Smoldering embers still sparked, though there was nothing left but ashes to burn. Bodies of men, women, and children lay strewn about in the streets."
Adeleina shuddered as gooseflesh crept down her arms, despite the fact that is was hardly chilling in the room. Her father's description of the devastation in Ersaw was horribly gruesome, and though she hated to admit it, frightening. She had not known that men could be so relentless in their pursuits, so merciless as to murder an entire village of innocents for no apparent reason. A foul taste soured in her mouth, and Adeleina breathed heavily in an attempt to force the bile back down her throat.
"We found no one alive. Nevertheless, there is hope that some villagers managed to escape, as the man who arrived at our gates did." Here, the king paused and cast a glance at Sir Estwick's ever-somber expression. "How does he fare?"
Sir Estwick shook his head.
"He hasn't woken, or even stirred, save for when he cries out in the night. 'Tis a terrible thing, what happened to him. I do not blame him for refusing to wake and face the pain."
The king nodded, the dark anger returning to his face.
"We found no evidence of who was behind the attack, though I have my suspicions." The king exchanged a significant glance with Sir Estwick, and the rest of the council dipped their heads in unspoken recognition. For what must have been the hundredth time that morning, Adeleina wanted to shriek in frustration. Must they be so discreet and secretive in their discussion? She was sorely tempted to speak up and ask what suspicions her father harbored, but he barrelled on before she even could open her mouth.
"Sire, if we are truly to come to war, we must begin the preparations immediately!" An aged man squeaked from his seat, his hand raised to catch the king's attentions. "Corandell hasn't faced a war in many decades. Where shall we find a thousand mercenaries? What shall we do if Gervan continues to suffer from attacks?"
The king nodded gravely, his fingers still resting on his temples.
"What worries me the most is surely where we shall find fighting power if it does come to war. An army of mercenaries is hard to come by, and our dwindling treasury could not withstand the huge sums they would demand as payment,"
Adeleina felt the panic begin creeping up her throat. Since when had the gold in Corandell's treasury sunk so such a low level, that they could not even afford a few hundred mercenaries?
Another councilman spoke up.
"We could always raise the taxes, Your Highness,"
King Corandell removed his fingers from his temple and glared at the councilman who'd spoken.
"We will do no such thing. Raised taxes leads to upset villagers, and upset villagers lead to revolutions and rebellions. A civil war in our own kingdom is certainly not something I would relish while we face an enemy on the outside. Remember who the real enemy is, Councilman Neal. We simply cannot afford disunity while a terrible force haunts our borders."
The man who'd spoken up nodded his head in acceptance and sat down again.
"There is another way we could acquire a fighting force, Sire," another councilman said. His voice tremored slightly as he shot a nervous glance at Adeleina, who caught the look with confusion. She shifted slightly in her seat, suddenly uneasy.
"Pray tell, Councilman Seran, what you have in mind," King Corandell had not caught the look, though his attention was now focused on the councilman.
"As we well know, marriage unites the land, the wealth, and the fighting force of the two kingdoms,"
Adeleina gaped at the councilman.
"What?" she burst out stupidly. A few of the councilmen cast her sympathetic looks, though she ignored them. "Marriage?"
"Pardon, my lady, but seeing as your betrothal is imminent--"
"I refuse to be given away as if I were a peasant's goat!" Adeleina scowled and crossed her arms tightly. She knew she was being petty; after all, they were in the middle of a terrible crisis, and she was very well their only hope. Even so, she certainly did not relish the idea of having to spend the rest of her life suffering from the results of a hasty marriage. Surely there was another way that didn't involve her having to live out her days in the shadow of some foolish prince?
"Adeleina," her father admonished her childlike behavior. Adeleina could feel her resolve wilting and shrivelling to a dry whisp under his somber gaze. Maybe she was their only hope, or her father would not be agreeing to this. "An alliance during a war is a most valuable thing to have, and your marriage can ensure that."
Adeleina could feel the dreaded tears beginning to sting her eyes. Damn this war! She'd march out the gates and slay every last enemy if she could only delay her marriage. Perhaps she was being much too dramatic, but in her eyes, a marriage was equivalent to an invasion in terms of catastrophy.
"I don't want to get married," she protested pitifully. She knew, deep, deep down, that her father was absolutely right. She was being selfish and childlike, but she couldn't help it. This was a decision meant to rule her life henceforth, and they were forcing her to make it now?
"If it's really that bad, you can always ask the Pope for a divorce," King Corandell sighed. His fingers were rotating in circles around his temples again.
"Actually, Sir, the Pope has declared that the man and woman are not to be separated except in cases of...er...being too closely related," a squat councilman sitting to the right of the king whispered loudly. King Corandell snorted, and Adeleina flushed bright red.
"Adeleina, please. You seemed to be getting along fine with the prince of Dale, were you not?"
The tips of Adeleina's ears must've burnt to a crisp then. All the councilmen's eyes were glued to her, their tight lips and drawn eyebrows a poor guise for the curiosity that welled underneath.
"Well," Adeleina managed to stammer, unable to ignore the prying eyes. A princess's love interest would certainly make for excellent court gossip, and these men, however sophisticated and bombast they appeared, were like singing larks when it came to gossip. Adeleina glared at them.
"An excellent choice, my lady," another councilman piped up. Adeleina didn't bother to crane her neck to see who had spoken. "Sire, the kingdom of Dale must surely have access to mercenaries and riches. Their prime location on the coast has made the kingdom both a well-known trade port, and has made their king rich, no?"
King Corandell stroked his curling beard thoughtfully.
"Jeremey of Dale is an old friend of mine," he acknowledged. "I know he would uphold his end of the bargain, should Adeleina choose to marry his son--"
Adeleina frowned at her father.
"I'm sitting right here," she pointed out loudly.
"--yes, the right choice. Adeleina," he turned to her. "You will wed Prince Damien as soon as possible."
Adeleina struggled to keep her head from exploding.
"But--" she began, already composing a long speech in her mind on how unfair this was. This was an atrocity! An outrage! She would demand the right to stay unmarried!
"No 'buts'." Her father cut her off before she could begin. "Sir Estwick, send the rest of our guests home, and kindly let Prince Damien and his father know of our choice."
Adeleina was ready to shriek in protest. Had her father gone mad? Had someone kidnapped him and replaced him with a monster?
"You didn't even ask for my consent!" She objected. The tears that she'd managed to keep at bay for so long threatened to burst through the dam in a torrent. "I won't marry him, or anyone else!"
King Corandell shook his head, not unkindly.
"You do not understand, Adeleina--"
She didn't bother to hear what he had to say. Instead, she scraped back her chair, relishing the screeching sound it made, and rushed out of the room before they could see her tears.
Unfair. Unfair. Unfair.
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Hunger Games? Anyone?
And yes, the divorce part is true. In the medieval ages, marriages were usually not out of love, but out of political or personal gain. The bride's family often paid a dowry (a sum of money, or, in peasant cases, goats or other valuable possesions) as a sort of financial insurance. Men and women were not allowed to divorce unless the community or the church declared that they were too closely related or unless either person had committed a terrible crime.