Earning the Love of a Princess-Chapter 147: Picking the Wrong Side
20 March, 1360. Westerhaven Palace, Islia
The piercing winter cold gradually started giving way to days of weak sunshine and the faintest promise of warmth.
To Camilla, the gently changing weather was like an insult. How could the weather turn mild and suggest the coming of new life, when she felt frozen in place with anguish and fear?
She had no idea if the letter she’d written to William in Tession’s rooms had even reached him. It had been surprisingly hard to find the right words.
She had written that she loved him and missed him terribly. Then at the bottom, almost as an afterthought, she had scrawled with an unsteady hand -
As of a few days ago, I’ve discovered that I’m with child. Our baby will be born towards the end of the summer. I hope that you can find happiness in this news and that you’ll be back with me very soon so we can await our son or daughter together.
Camilla had received no reply. She didn’t know if it was because her letter was never received or whether William had read it and was just too furious to bother responding to her. The uncertainty was making her feel sick inside.
What wasn’t uncertain was the brutality of the war being fought in the north. Messengers from King Edward arrived at Westerhaven on a fairly regular basis and met with the queen as well as with the total senior advisors that remained at court. The news was often grim.
After a merciless massacre of the Islian villages and hamlets closest to the Arandar Valley, the Moraigthian army had retreated to the other side of the river, leaving a trail of deliberately lit fires as they went. They had so far refused to engage in decisive battles with King Edward’s forces. Instead, they had resorted to cowardly raids and skirmishes under the cover of night, often trying to attack the Islian army’s horses and supply wagons. It was as if they were deliberately trying to exhaust and starve the Islian forces into submission, like they’d already succeeded in doing with countless peasants and serfs in the surrounding areas.
Camilla was disgusted with the sound of it all - the tales of children massacred and women violated by the enemy army who roamed the countryside like pack wolves, the deliberate burning of productive farmland and towns, the senseless waste of life.
Even Queen Celia, who had seen her husband off on countless campaigns, seemed taken aback at the naked viciousness of King Kenneth’s attacks.
A tiny part of Camilla wondered if King Edward now regretted siding with Kenneth against her father. Had her father managed to take the throne by force two years ago, she couldn’t ever imagine him commanding the slaughter of so many innocents, just for the sake of it.
It was a question that would never be asked or answered.
That afternoon, Camilla had resolved to visit Princess Blanche and meet her new baby. She was sick of staring at the walls of her apartments and wallowing in despair.
Camilla knocked on the door of Blanche’s presence chamber and was led inside by a maid called Janina. She remembered this was the young woman that Richard Bentworth had started pursuing once he’d cast Bonnie aside.
Janina announced Camilla’s arrival to Princess Blanche, who cheerfully called her into her luxurious bedchamber.
Camilla peered inside and was relieved to find Blanche reclining on her bed and looking in good health. Next to the bed, her two young sons were playing quietly with little soldier figurines.
The two princesses locked hands and smiled warmly at each other. "You look so well. Has your recovery been smooth?" Camilla asked.
"Yes, this has been my easiest baby so far. Would you like to meet little Celia?" Blanche gestured to the gilded cradle to one side of her bed.
Camilla peered down into it and was awed at the sight of the peach skinned swaddled baby, asleep on fine linen sheets. Prince James’s features were etched in miniature on her face. "She’s lovely. She looks so much like His Grace!"
Blanche laughed. "Yes, I think James was rather proud when he saw that, especially since both our boys tend to favour my side of the family."
Camilla found her eyes welling up as she continued to look at the infant and she quickly blinked the tears away before Blanche started thinking she’d run a little mad. To try and draw attention away from her reaction, she held out a small gift box to Blanche.
The elder princess unwrapped and opened the box to reveal a tiny pearl necklace. She gave Camilla a smile of piercing sweetness. "How beautiful. Thank you, my dear girl. I’ll make sure baby Celia always looks after it well."
Camilla ended up spending some time sprawled on the floor, playing toy soldiers with Blanche’s older children. The smallest of the boys, named Henry, curled up in her lap and sucked his thumb drowsily. Camilla ruffled his fair hair as she smiled down at him.
Blanche observed her. "The children like you very much. Henry especially, and he’s very fussy around those he doesn’t know well. You’ll make a wonderful mother someday. Have you and William spoken about raising a family together in the future?"
Camilla gave her an ambiguous smile as she cuddled little Henry.
- - -
The days continued to grow warmer but the news reaching the court from the north remained worrying. The two sides were still locked in a series of inconclusive skirmishes, their positions constantly changing as the Islians tried to position themselves more favourably within the difficult landscape and goad their enemy into decisive clashes.
In early April, there were reports of a strange tertian fever that had swept through both armies, killing hundreds of men. The extent of illness was made worse by heavy spring rains that risked spoiling the soldiers’ rations and turned battlefields into endless, sticky bogs of mud.
Camilla had still received no reply from William. She scribbled him another letter, in case he hadn’t received her first one. She prayed at least one of her messages would reach him and that he’d write back, even if it was just to reassure her that he was well. She understood now why she had memories of her mother being pale and fretful when her father had been on campaign, why she’d begged him to avoid conflicts at all costs.
Camilla tried to spend time with Tession, finding his quiet company rather soothing. In his cramped, cluttered library, she’d lose herself for hours reading and manage to escape reality for a while.
It was at night when loneliness hit her the hardest. With Sophie curled up at her feet, Camilla would spend time talking to her baby, telling him or her about anything she could think of. Her belly was starting to show a very slight curve but her nausea continued unabated. Tession assured her that while unpleasant, it was a good symptom to have.
One morning, Camilla woke up after a night of broken sleep to a dawn that glowed an eerie orange behind her drapes. She heard murmuring outside her bedchamber, then a strange high pitched sound. Almost as if someone were keening with grief.
Camilla felt her heart drop to the floor. Something had to be wrong. She rushed out of her bedchamber and found a small group of maids clustered in her presence chamber, all white faced with shock. One of them, she only vaguely recognised. The other one though, standing between Louisa and Bonnie, was Janina.
All the maids quickly bowed in deference as Camilla walked towards them barefoot and in her nightgown, her hair a pile of tangles.
"What happened?" Camilla managed to breathe out.
"There was finally a battle between the two sides yesterday, but the Moraigthians had the upper hand as they were attacking from higher ground. The fight went poorly for our side and the Islian army was cleaved in two." Louisa explained in a rush.
Camilla closed her eyes for a moment, trying to find calm. "How great were our losses?"
"They’re still trying to gauge that, but it’s bad, my lady. The king’s messenger said the banks of the River Caine are soaked in Islian blood."
Camilla’s belly clenched with a wave of nausea. "Have they listed the dead?" Every messenger brought a list of the fallen nobles and high ranking commanders with him, so that the court could offer prayers for their souls.
"Yes, my lady." said Janina and proceeded to list off a few names. None caught Camilla’s attention much until Janina said in a voice thick with tears, "...and the eldest son of the Earl of Rhie."
The Earl of Rhie...
Camilla stared open mouthed at Janina. "Do you mean...are you talking about Sir Richard Bentworth?"
Janina nodded and started crying again. "Yes, he was felled in battle, Your Grace. He is to be buried at the chapel in Eberelle Monastery."
Camilla pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, reeling from the shock.
