Read Online While Beauty Slept by Elizabeth Blackwell - Free Book Online Page A

that his father could not place it on a map. From the moment Ranolf met her, he would have no other. Can you imagine?”
    Love at first sight. I smiled to know that such things were possible.
    “No heir to the throne had ever married a foreigner. They say the queen’s family was equally hesitant to send their child so far from home. But she was the youngest daughter and much indulged. Her father acquiesced to her wishes.”
    “Did you see any of the festivities?”
    “Princess Lenore slept at the Convent of St. Anne’s the night before,” Petra said. “Her procession passed through the valley that morning, and people cheered and threw flowers toward her carriage. I stood along the road with my parents, and I had never heard such a commotion. The princess kept her face hidden, as is the custom, but she reached her hand out the window to wave, and I just about fainted with the thrill of it.
    “When her carriage arrived at the main gate of the castle, the old king himself walked out to greet her and escort her inside. The wedding ceremony was held in the chapel, with only the highest-ranking families in attendance. But afterward, before the wedding feast, King Ranolf took his bride by the hand and led her upstairs to the Gold Chamber. I heard from one of the ladies’ maids that they giggled like children. Ranolf threw open the doors that look out over the castle courtyard and the town, then brought her out onto the balcony.
    “‘I present your future queen!’ he announced. My sister was in the courtyard, readying tables of food and wine for the servants’ feast, and she said they were the most beautiful couple she had ever seen. We’d heard talk of this foreign woman who would bring wicked customs to our land, but she charmed the whole court from that moment. Her husband, too. From what I heard, their wedding night lasted well into the next day.”
    “What?” I asked, shocked. “Surely her servants would not speak of such private matters?”
    Petra laughed. “Not just the servants!” she said. “Both families expected a report on the consummation. The news that King Ranolf could barely drag himself from his bride’s arms was seen as a good omen.”
    Petra lay quietly for a few moments. I wondered if she had drifted off to sleep. She yawned, then adjusted her pillow and continued.
    “The old king died not long after the wedding, and once the period of mourning was over, there were grand entertainments every week: jousting, riding excursions, balls. Anyone would have described the king and queen as the happiest couple alive. When I first came here, a few years ago, I happened upon them once in her chamber, holding hands like young sweethearts. At dinner she would feed him bites from her plate or wipe a trace of food from his mouth. That’s long over, though. Ever since she proved herself barren.”
    “Oh, no,” I murmured.
    “Eight years the king has waited for an heir, in vain,” Petra said. “The queen spends more time consulting doctors than verses of poetry these days. And now that the king lies with her but once a month, she is even less likely to find herself with child.”
    “Once a month? How do you know?” I asked.
    “The laundress who changes the bedsheets reports to Lady Wintermale whenever there are relations. I suppose it’s no surprise the queen has turned desperate.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Her pilgrimage.” Petra drew out the word disdainfully.
    “I thought she was visiting a hot springs, for her health,” I said.
    “That’s the story put about, but I heard from Lady Wintermale’s maid that the ladies traveled to a shrine in the mountains. The queen must be close to losing hope if she begs intercession from a saint that only country folk care about. Especially if it meant spending a week in the company of Madam Millicent.” She drew out the final word, her voice sharp with contempt.
    Did a shiver of warning speed through my body the first time I heard that fateful name?