~Zacharias~
There was plenty of hustle and bustle in the ballroom tonight. This meeting has caught the attention of the majority of England, the incident caused quite controversy. However, Catherine has treated this urgent council meeting as if it was her personal princess ball. Among the nobles spread out around the large elaborate ballroom, there is food, music, and dancing. Decorations hung on every wall, and the aroma of food and lady perfume is in the air. It makes me sick. The air is stiff, the sights bear too much color, the ladies are too loud, and the men are drunk. This is a political and religious matter, why does it look like a damn party?
My back lays against the wall watching the scene play out before my eyes. Concealed in shadows I watched as fools danced their night away, and in the corner I saw Catherine. Catherine, and wrapped around her waist, were the arms of a man. I knew him, he was Lord of the Swavett manor further north. He is here in the Manor of the Griffin, but not by my invitation. He was certainly occupied, chatting the bitch up. Catherine led him by the hand into the nearest empty room and made sure to lock the door behind her.
"Let her have her fun brother," my gaze shifted to where my younger half-brother, Francis, stood by my side. "It won't be long until you both are wed, speaking of which, shouldn't you be having a bit of fun as well?"
"That's bastard tongue Francis."
"Well I am bastard born aren't I?"
"Yes, bastard born, not bastard raised. I taught you better, father taught you better."
"Oh whatever, I'm just saying if the bride insists on being a whore then finding satisfaction elsewhere is acceptable. You can even call it just." I despise the way Francis thinks sometimes. Father, and his bitch mother made him that way. They filled his head with tyrannical thoughts and let him grow a selfish heart. But he is wise, changing slowly, he at least knows the meaning of just. However he must now learn what the difference between what is just and what is right.
Francis and I were always close despite the fact that we have different mothers. My mother was true nobility: Lady Marie-Jeanette of France. Her father felt no need to remain in France and longed for his beautiful daughter to marry into authority. Therefore, Lady Marie-Jeanette found my father, Lord Maximus of Griffin manor. They wed, I was born, but it was strictly politics. My father found love elsewhere, or at the very least, he found pleasure. Lady Guinevere, a common serf. Lord Maximus made her his mistress, and together they had Francis. As Francis's older brother, I took it upon myself to teach him everything I knew, from swordsmanship to courting the female masses. I love my dear Francis, and I'm sure he loves me. But one thing is for sure, his mother despises me for taking the Lordship. And I knew that negative energy and hatred would be passed on to my dear brother. So, I tried my best to teach him what is right.
"I couldn't help but overhear the ladies' daily gossip hour, and I heard something interesting. Is it true that a serf bitch spoke out of turn? Catherine had quite the opinion about it, she claims that you were too soft. She says that if she was in your boots she would have her killed on sight." He whispered. "'First this heist and now this! These damn serfs are getting too bold if you ask me,' I'd wish she'd see that in truth, nobody asked her." Francis mocked her, raising his pitch and making feminine gestures with his hands and hips. I couldn't help but chuckle.
"The only bitch I've ever encountered was Catherine." Her and your mother of course, "Besides, the girl merely spoke the truth."
"The truth you say? I heard she spoke ill of you. She said that you 'let your knights run wild'. That can't be true, I see the way they respect you."
"Their respect for me isn't the issue. It's their respect for my people. Perhaps I should change the code of chivalry?"
"Perhaps, or perhaps you're simply too lenient with them, brother. Be more severe, be sterner. Do not let punishment slip by." Francis led me by my hand and we walked down an empty hall. Behind us was chatter and laughter behind us, and the farther we walk, the louder out footsteps grew.
"Is that what you think I did? I killed the wretched knight in front of the holy church. Isn't that severe enough?" When we drifted to the end of the hall, we entered the garden. The trees bear fruit, and water rushes through the fountain, flowing down the stream. The flowing river circled the perimeter of the garden. I dipped my fingers in and felt the coolness of the fresh water. I cupped some, and brought it to my lips. The taste of cool water to parched lips and a thirsty soul felt refreshing.
"One act of justice won't change all of England, Zach." My eyes shot open, I couldn't believe what he was saying. Francis, a member of the nobility class, brother to the Lord. Who could possibly guess that a serf girl could think the same way as someone who is actually educated? "You seem surprised."
"You sounded just like her, the serf girl. I don't understand how a serf girl could-."
"That's bastard tongue. Don't assume just because someone can't read or write that they are automatically a stupid wanker. Serfs, nobility, the two simply learn differently. Although most serfs lack most knowledge, serfs bear something that even the highest of nobility rank do not possess."
"And what is that?" he turned me around and stared into my eyes. Slowly he whispered a thought that echoes in my head and haunts me. Something that made me slowly rethink what I thought I knew.
"Common sense." My brother indeed wise. I often find myself learning from him.
"Oh Francis, I regret even holding this damn meeting. I wanted guidance from the noble. Guidance to make wise decisions and to pursue this from an effective angle. I brought these people here, when in truth your opinion is the only one that matters to me." A sweet thankful smile appeared on his face and he pat my back gently. "What do you think I should do Francis? This whole incident, it's such a mess. The investigation is terribly unorganized. I don't even know what to do with myself. What else could I possibly do? I've done everything legitimately possible,"
"Well, perhaps it's about time you did something illegitimate." Francis took a bottle of beer from his person and poured it into the rushing water. Francis was always good at thinking outside of the box, something I was never good at. That way of thinking drove into plenty of trouble, but has been proven useful.
"Go on."
"Pushing the fences, expanding our boundaries. There's a serf down there that knows something. To the serfs, you Lord Zacharias Griffin, resemble a God high upon his pedestal. They're waiting brother, waiting for Jesus to come down from heaven and to walk the earth once more. Don't keep them waiting long."
"You're saying I should communicate with them, but where do I even start?" Where does one start, conversing with a species that's not his kind? What would they talk about? How would they relate? The community of serfs is so unknown to me, it might as well be an uncharted labyrinth.
"Even I have no clue how to talk to them, but you know what I think? I think a certain little serf bitch is the key to this mystery, don't you agree?"
"... Noel Blakeway. The first intelligent serf woman."
"That you know of." he corrected me.
"You suspect the lot of them to be intelligent?"
"You never know. But she is the closest you've ever been to a serf. Besides, it gives you a chance to have some fun. Is she attractive?" I smacked him on the back of his head. "Oi! Dammit Zacharias, I was only kidding."
I rolled my eyes and returned to the ballroom, but he was right. Beyond this castle is a world I never knew. There's a serf down there that knows the truth behind the church heist. To get to the serfs, I have to start with the closet thing I've got. Noel Blakeway, just what do you know that I don't?
It turns out that the Archbishop couldn't make it to the meeting, thank God. I would have been embarrassed if he showed up. The closest I was to discussing the heist was the conversation I had with Francis in the garden. Archbishop Servais plans to set up a private appointment. He wants me, Francis, and a few trusted members of the church to discuss the investigation progression and countermeasures. That meeting will be held in two weeks' time. As for the party, I know not when it ended. Francis and I retired for the night shortly after our little discussion. I assume it ended around midnight, for that was when Catherine decided to return. However, I can't be sure. After all, I knew perfectly well that during the party, she did not participate. When Catherine entered our master bedroom, I was already in my night clothing, reading a book by the lonely candle light.
"We need to talk." She said. My eyes didn't leave the pages of my book.
"You will not waste anymore of my money on your damn hair. That is final." I licked my finger and turned the page.
"I'm not talking about the damn hair. And for Christ sake look at me when I am speaking to you." I rolled my eyes, closed my book, and looked at her. She too was in her night clothes.
"What is it Catherine?"
"I-I feel like I am not respected here. I am a member of nobility, I deserved to be treated as such. I deserve to be treated with dignity and honor and-."
"Is that what your lover told you?" I heard the air in lung cease. A sharp gasp escaped her lips. Her body was trembling, and her hands are shaking. Her eyes were full of fear, and they were fiercely staring me down. "Oh you thought I didn't notice?" I gave her a sweet smile. "You silly goose. Tell me Catherine, is he just as shameless as you? How does he whisper sweet nothings in your ear, how does he make love to you, knowing perfectly well that in his grand master bedroom, there is a woman waiting for him? Did he flatter you? Did he tell you that you were beautiful, perfect, and that I didn't deserve you?" She started to tear up, her hand covered her mouth and she turned away. I saw her body shake in rhythm of her sobs. "Oh quit your crying dammit, I don't care who you sleep with alright? But don't expect anything to change. You dare ask me for respect? You dare claim you have dignity and honor? A woman? A whore?"
"Well if you hate me so god damn much, why won't you just let me go?! Compromise the contract and let me go!" Her face turned red, her fists were clenched, and she exploded. I felt all of her anger and frustration locked on me. Her body shook with vexation and she spat her words with animosity.
"Trust me Catherine, if this was about what I wanted, you would be dead. But I can't get rid of you. You, Goddaughter to the King of Scotland, have a responsibility to your people and to me. I desire the money and trade to and from Scotland."
"If that's all you want, I'll get all the money for you somehow, I swear." She's begging me to let her leave. I almost let her, but this world that we live in forbids me to show mercy. I need her money, I need her power for the manor. As long as she's here with me, my manor is stable.
"Silly Catherine, I don't want the money you have now. I want the money you plan to obtain in the future. I want to change this manor for the better, I need to make further transactions in order to expand."
"Fine, then what's stopping me from running away huh? You can't hurt me if you can't find me." She's clearly not thinking straight, but that's the worst possible action she could take. That would affect millions of people.
"Do you really think you are that special? You can do whatever the hell you want, but you see, there's this piece of paper. This is a really important piece of paper. 'Has both of our names on it don't you know? So you see, this paper is a promise from you to me. You promised to marry me. If you break that promise, that piece of paper goes straight to the King of England. From there it goes to your God daddy. And you know what happens then, Dear Catherine? That itty bitty piece of paper will spark controversy between the England and the Scotland... Understand something Catherine, people like us have no chance of finding love in marriage. We could find pleasure elsewhere, but we will never happily marry. I want nothing to do with you. However, you are still mine. Understand?" We stared at each other, her eyes were red and puffy. Streaks of tears stained her face.
"Yes, Milord." She said.
"Good, now show your Lord some respect." Reluctantly she fell down to one knee. "Now that's more like it. But I still don't want to sleep with you."
"Then where will you have me go, Milord?"
"Christ was born in a manger. Perhaps if you slept there tonight your personality would reincarnate into something more appealing. You're dismissed." she stormed out the room, sniffing and sobbing. Slamming the door behind her, I never saw her face until mourning. I heaved a guilty sigh and blew out the dim candle. I never liked Catherine, but I had no right to say those things to her. Despite that, she's a loose cannon. I need to keep her under control. I prayed to God for forgiveness, and went to sleep with a weird feeling in my stomach. In the terrible world of politics, I have no choice but to speak fluently in bastard's tongue.