Queen's Disgrace B. 01

Author's Note: Special thanks to MissJenny54 for all her work editing the story! Enjoy!

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"Her Majesty, Marguerite, by the Grace of the One God, Queen of LaRend and Avastre, Duchess of Lisbaine, Countess of Coelestre, Lioness of the Church and Shield of the Patriarch!"

The assembled court knelt as Marguerite swept into the room. The queen strode past her courtiers, her gaze on the small throne sitting on a raised dais above the court. She focused on the embroidered sun sewn in gold into the azure silk of her ruling seat. Locking eyes onto the distinctive pattern kept her focused and prevented the crowd from seeing her uncertainty.

I have to project confidence,

she thought,

now more than ever.

Stepping up onto the dais, she turned gracefully towards the court. Lady Jacqueline, her closest friend and lady-in-waiting, adjusted the train of Marguerite's purple gown so the queen could sit on the throne. The royal seat fit her petite frame, while the azure silk of the upholstery complemented her blue eyes and the amethysts set into her necklace and rings.

One day, I'll have sapphires as well,

she thought ruefully,

once I have sorted out the Kingdom's finances.

Over a decade after her coronation, the Crown's revenues weren't fully restored from her father's mismanagement and the civil disturbance surrounding her accession to the throne.

Her father, may the One God forgive him, had melted down her family's crown and sold off the jewels. She had commissioned a new one but lacked the resources to match the former's grandeur. Instead, she had to settle for a simple silver circlet crested with three-petaled leaves, each adorned with a central amethyst.

The assembled nobles, churchmen, burghers, and others gazed up at her in a mixture of respect and desire. At twenty-eight, she was still attractive, though she knew that her looks would soon begin to fade. Marguerite was old to be unmarried, but she had yet to find the groom that would be most advantageous for her, especially since the possibility of marriage to her was useful in managing the nobles of the realm.

She took a moment to adjust the delicate gold chains woven through her brown locks which held them up into a bun, then accepted the royal sceptre from her page. Marguerite's slender fingers blended into the carved ivory handle, while the engraved silver head caught the light reflected through the stained glass behind her. Holding it straight up beside her, she hardened her expression and struck her best royal pose.

Only now did she allow herself to survey her court, starting with Archbishop Richaud. Standing straight and solemn to her side, he was dressed lavishly in golden robes embroidered with olive branches and clutching his ivory crook. The sun and lilies embroidered into her dress were equally fine, as were the pearl inlays covering the joint between her sleeves and bodice, but this was her finest dress and not daily attire such as the Archbishop's.

The Church has twice the income and half the expenses,

she ruefully thought.

At the Queen's nod the priest began, "Almighty God, ruler of all above and all below, bestow your grace upon us today, and grant wisdom on our Queen, your anointed servant, who judges today..."

Marguerite blocked out the rest of the invocation while inspecting the crowded court. Prince Gailen the Granite, the recently arrived Ambassador from the Kingdom of the Hoehns, stood prominently towards the front. He had a reputation for bravery and prowess on the battlefield and played a large part in helping his brother, King Victor, unify all the Hoehns into one Kingdom. That he was now at her court as Ambassador suggested the new King's foreign policy would be focused on her. Gailen had petitioned for an audience after the court proceedings were done. The Prince was powerfully built, with strong arms and broad shoulders, but despite spending much of his life in the field his skin was still fair, as was typical of the Hoehns.

"...these grave matters which so sorely test the morals of..."

Behind the Prince and to the back of the hall was Lorenzo DoCasta, head of the delegation from the DoCasta Bank to her capital city, Parce. The DoCasta bankers from Floreze wielded great influence with the Patriarch, as they were responsible for managing the Church's tithes. Lorenzo was a handsome man, with dark hair and swarthy skin, when compared to her people. He looked to be a few years younger than herself, still a junior member of his family.

He must be capable,

she thought,

to be selected as the head of the bank here. The DoCastas are said to be able to smell opportunity and must sense that I'll need their services soon.

"...give him the strength to face this trial with courage..."

Next was the Lord Mayor of Parce, Rathoway, one of her oldest supporters, looking weary but determined.

Hopefully, he won't be called to testify. I've come a long way in solidifying my rule, but I haven't had a challenge like this in nearly a decade.

The Count of Reisbourg, the Count of Allende, the Baron of Jureau, all young men of little account and influence, but as the new generation of nobility, they needed to see she was serious about her reforms; that no one, no matter how august, was exempt. Before them was her cousin, Prince Stephan, smiling and looking radiantly confident. They had been raised together by her uncle, Guillaume, who had served as Regent during her youth. Thirteen years ago, he had tried to force a marriage with Stephan to put him on the throne in her place; with him controlling the Kingdom as Chancellor, of course. But Stephan stayed loyal, and seeing her more as a sister, helped her foil the plot.

"...to accept the justice discerned today."

As the Archbishop concluded his blessing, she looked upon the reason they were there today: Rudolf, the Duke of Buiscard. At fifty-two, he was over twenty years her senior and one of the last of the old guard nobility from before her reign. He had been a dashing figure then, but had since let his body go. His large belly couldn't be contained by the silk sash cinching the waist of his robe, and his once dark hair was more gray than brown. Still, he led a large faction among the nobility; those that stood for the status quo and against the centralization of power under the Crown. However, in fourteen years he had never challenged her rule; at least not that she had heard. Now he stood there glowering at her, looking proud and defiant, forcing Marguerite to fortify herself and repress the involuntary shudder the look sent down her spine.

Her deep blue eyes drilled into him as she summoned a sharp tenor for her 'royal' voice. "Your Grace, you stand accused of the rape of Melanie DuClare, a common girl from the town of Brubont, and of inflicting corporal punishment upon her without due process of law, in direct contravention of my royal edict, and of having full knowledge of said edict. How do you plead?"

The court erupted in murmurs, and the Archbishop shifted uncomfortably. Traditionally a noble would never be called to account for assaulting a commoner, and even if a noblewoman was assaulted, it would be handled discretely and not before the whole court. There hadn't been a charge of violating her edict in years, and never one so brazen or by a Duke.

Marguerite glanced at Melanie. The girl's long brown hair, fair skin, and delicate features made the Queen feel like she was looking at herself at that age, and a shiver ran through her. The young woman trembled in her father's arms as the charges were levied.

Rudolf looked about the court as if to summon support from the crowd. While some no doubt sympathized, Marguerite had ensured none of his supporters were in attendance. Once he realized no one was going to speak, his spine stiffened, and he turned his steely gaze to the Queen. "As the Duke of Buiscard, I am the appointed ruler over its inhabitants and I have every right dispense judgments and punishments. The serfs are part of my patrimony, to manage and to grow as much as the fields they till. I gave the DuClares just payment for their daughter and meted out judgment per my conscience and in accordance with the teachings of the One God. With the deepest respect to Your Majesty, your edict, however well-intentioned, has no provenance within the Duchy of Buiscard or in any of the lands held by true Lords. Therefore, I must declare, before all those assembled today, that I am not, and cannot, be guilty of violating it."

"Shame!" Stephan cried out while Rathoway hissed. Marguerite was glad they were behaving and had warned them that she didn't want to hear the words 'traitor' or 'treason.' Disobedience could be punished lightly, but treason was another matter and she didn't want to get locked into a course of action.

The murmuring got louder as the court listened raptly to the Duke's words. He didn't deny the accusation; instead, he challenged the Queen's ability to enforce her laws and did so by invoking the authority and teachings of the One God. Marguerite noticed the Archbishop flinch at the Duke's words but did not doubt that his ruling would come down on her side. Whether he fully agreed with her interpretation of the Church's teachings or not, he endorsed her command in the name of the Church before she issued it.

Marguerite looked over the crowd again, and though they watched with interest as to how she would respond to this challenge, none appeared to doubt her authority.

Those who would were stamped out long ago.

"When I was a young girl, I was placed under the 'care' and authority of my uncle, the regent. He assumed the same authority the Duke of Buiscard has just proclaimed. He inflicted 'justice,' even unto me, at whim. I was beaten and abused, routinely humiliated, and denied privacy, even of my own thoughts. I was denied an education as would befit a Crown Princess. All so he might intimidate me into allowing him to continue to control our Kingdom when I came of age."

Her sharp tenor became even harder as she continued, "His plot did not succeed. When I claimed my Crown, I made a promise, and a command, that no woman would have to endure what I did, that no one would be mistreated in my Kingdom. My edict, with the endorsement of the Most Reverend Richaud, Archbishop of Parce, is lawful and binding in every duchy, county, barony, and free city within my dominion. That you are here today, Your Grace, and not safe in your estate is proof that even you are accountable to my law and will face the consequences for flouting it."

Now comes the difficult part. How do I punish him without pushing the rest of his faction into rebellion?

Rudolf had not challenged her before, nor was he part of the clique that conspired with her uncle to keep her off the throne. On the contrary, he and his friends had been neutral to mildly supportive of her efforts to claim her crown.

If I come down too hard on him, the others will push back to assert their rights, but if I'm too soft, they'll think they too can challenge my authority.

"As you have not contested the facts of the case, I will deliver a summary judgment. Rudolf Buiscard, I fine you twenty crowns, payable to the DuClare family, and sentence you to fifteen lashes with a birch rod. The sentence shall be carried out privately in deference to your rank." That left a bitter taste in her mouth, as a private lashing, if it even occurred, was bound to be a token only and not real punishment.

But a punishment on the books is a win, even if notional. The nobles might not be ready to accept a Duke being lashed for a commoner yet, but it is progress.

Another murmur swept over the crowd at the size of the fine. Twenty crowns was a lifetime's wage for Melanie, assuming her father didn't squander the money. Still, while it was life-changing wealth for the DuClares, it was not a significant loss for the Duke. The Queen's leniency would undoubtedly surprise the court and make them wonder if her hold on the nobles was weaker than it seemed.

Let them; they'll see differently soon enough.

Buiscard might have thought so as well, but when he started to speak, Marguerite silenced him with a gesture. "Furthermore, as your violation of the young woman in disobedience to a Church sanctioned edict of your anointed sovereign was a grave sin, I commend you unto the Church for penance as prescribed by the Archbishop."

The tension in the room grew at that pronouncement, as the full weight of the Church would enforce the punishment. The nobles might consider pushing back against any restriction or punishment she might give them, but by couching it as a penance prescribed by the Church any objection would come across as heresy. Buiscard's momentary elation fell into a wary scowl as he turned towards the Archbishop.

Richaud stepped onto the dais, drew up to his full height and turned towards Rudolf. "In light of the severity of your crimes and your singular lack of remorse, you must be compelled to consider the state of your immortal soul and to abandon your attachment to the material world. To atone for your crimes, I instruct you to donate to the Church your estate at Remy with all associated rents and incomes. Failure-" the Archbishop's words were drowned out by the crowd's clamor, forcing him to raise his voice louder, "failure to do so will result in your separation from the Church, leaving you outcast, stripping you of all appointed authority and voiding all oaths of fealty."

Rudolf spluttered in rage and glared hatefully at her while the crowd roared, but Marguerite simply rose from the throne, "This court is dismissed!"

****

"What a delightful performance, Your Majesty," Prince Gailen said after entering her solar. "You delivered a slap on the wrist so as not to appear overbearing and tyrannical to your nobles. Meanwhile, the Church does your dirty work applying the true punishment, thus taking the blame but being amply rewarded for doing so, while strengthening your ties to it. Bravo!" Prince Gailen gently clapped as he gazed across the large oak table to Marguerite. His gaze briefly flickered down her figure before locking onto her eyes.

Marguerite tried to ignore the examination and looked closer at the Prince, whose broad frame filled the chair across from her. Long blond hair fell past his broad shoulders while his strong hands thrummed on the oak table. The Hoehn people were fairer than those of LaRend, but not by much. Despite years in the saddle, Gailen's complexion had not tanned, though his features were hard and his hands calloused from training with sword and lance. His angelic appearance did not belie the menace in his pale blue eyes. Still, she couldn't help but feel warm between her legs at the Prince's lustful stare.

After sharing a look with Jacqueline, who waited against the wall to serve the pair anything that was needed, Marguerite replied, "Maintaining a positive relationship with the aristocracy and the Church is integral to maintaining a healthy Kingdom. No doubt as your brother matures into his throne, he'll come to the same conclusion. It is one thing to forge a kingdom in fires of conquest, but it must be tempered if it is to endure." Inside, Marguerite was pleased. After coming into power at a young age, it wasn't often that she got to play the 'elder statesman' and was enjoying the role despite being younger than the Prince and his brother. Still, she needed to be careful; despite having been recently formed, the Kingdom of the Hoehns had a larger and more experienced army and a bigger economy. The Prince was going to be aggressive in these talks by virtue of his superior position, so she had to be careful.

"My brother's throne is new, but filled with vigor," the Prince replied sharply. "All Hoehns rejoice to be united under one King at last. None challenge his rule or command and support his vision of liberating all our brethren yet under foreign dominion."

Silence followed that statement, which lingered tensely between them as Marguerite had ordered the annexation of the Hoehn counties on the border between their lands before King Victor could bring them into his domain. "Only the One God can truly liberate us from our burdens on this earth," she replied smoothly. "I am pleased to have ensured the safe and peaceful teaching of His love to all in my realm, including my Hoehn subjects."

"I had no idea you were such a wordsmith, Your Majesty," Gailen said, laughing before the amusement glinting in his eyes hardened. "That is a fascinating way to describe grafting a portion of the Kingdom of the Hoehns onto your realm. If you'll indulge me, I'd be delighted to hear more of your sermon justifying the naked conquest of your brothers in faith." The Prince's eyes flickered down along Marguerite's figure again, lingering lecherously on her bosom.

A slight blush formed on Marguerite's cheeks; something in the Prince's tone made her breasts feel exposed, even though her gown covered her completely. "The Freighen Lands were lawless and in chaos. The petty bandit Lords were wreaking havoc on both our lands. Thankfully, order has been restored under the ministration of the Church." This was true; the independent baronies had answered to no one, and numerous tolls and protection fees they charged had strangled trade in the area. Taking them in hand had helped unify her people after the civil disorder surrounding her coronation.

"The Church, again. How convenient for you that they were on hand to administer your conquests. Was that the price you paid to have their support for your coronation?" Gailen leaned forward, his crisp blue eyes glinting harshly. "Without their support, you wouldn't have a throne to sit on."

There was an uncomfortable amount of truth to the Prince's accusation. When she came of age, and the regent attempted to delay and deny her coronation, Marguerite had to win over the Archbishop and convince him to insist she be proclaimed regnant.

"No ruler can sit on any throne without the will of the One God and his Holy Church," Marguerite replied primly. "Your brother saw value in recognition from the Church. How many talents of silver did he offer your Archbishop to arrange for the Patriarch to crown him King of the Hoehns? I believe it was 800, correct?"

The unification of the Hoehns by King Victor had been a bloody affair. His house had been the largest and most powerful of the Hoehns, but had never held Kingship. It wasn't until Victor fought a series of campaigns to conquer or vassalize the recalcitrant Lords of the Hoehns that he came into position to become King. Of course, Victor couldn't just proclaim it; he needed the Patriarch to recognize his Kingship and crown him.

Prince Gailen leaned back again, regarding Marguerite coldly but with more respect. "Indeed, and a wise investment it was, too; one that will perhaps repay us in dividends. After all, the Patriarch named my brother King of the Hoehns. King of 'all' the Hoehns. Victor is the rightful liege of the Freighen Lands, and I'm sure the Patriarch will recognize that once the rightful Lords are restored as vassals to the King."

Marguerite frowned as she considered this gambit. Placing the newly conquered lands in the hands of the Church legitimized the occupation, but she hadn't considered what would happen if the Hoehns were unified into a Kingdom. Their own Archbishop could persuade the Patriarch that it was only natural for the anointed King of the Hoehns to rule those lands, especially if he was willing to compensate the Patriarch for any lost tithes. "They are already flourishing under the guidance of the Archbishop of LaRend. It would be too disruptive to their spiritual well-being to transfer their care to another shepherd, and I can't see the Patriarch disagreeing."