Marysia Jagiellon, Princess of Poland, had never expected to become Queen of England. Such a high title was never in the cards for her, as a woman of questionable birth, rumoured to be the daughter of her mother's lover and not her royal sire. She c...
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Although the winter snows were light that year, they still slowed their travel. It took almost two weeks to complete the journey from King's Lynn to London, even though it should've taken them a week at most. The roads were rarely paved, turning into a muddy mess, and when they were, the stones were coated with a sheen of ice that made it difficult for the horses to move as fast as they usually would.
Marysia didn't mind it though. It gave her more opportunity to see the land and its people. They stayed in an inn almost every night, and she enjoyed talking to the women there. They were all so kind, so interested in who she was. She was so used to everyone simply knowing, but in this new country, she was a stranger to all. Most of England's inhabitants wouldn't even know a Marysia Jagiellon existed, let alone be aware of her position.
She was happy to smile at them and answer all their enquiries, even when Ivan gave her strange glances for mingling with thecommon rabble, as he so kindly put it. Marysia did not care for his criticism. She wasn't doing it for fun. If she were to have some sort of foothold in a country she didn't know, she would have to create a reputation for herself. She wasn't a fool, and if speaking and helping the commonfolk would aid her, as well as aid them, then it was all the better.
When they finally saw the walls of London, she had to admit she was not so relaxed anymore. Her hands turned cold and clammy, and she fidgeted with the hem of her cloak. The stone walls were a bleak grey, growing larger the closer they got. She smelled the stench of a large city before they even rode through the gates, but it only got worse when they were in the streets. She resisted holding her nose, looking out at the street instead.
All the quarters had entirely different looks to them. She watched as people dressed in rags turned to people wearing proper clothing, though still made of roughspun. As they rode through what she assumed was a market area, they mingled together, and Marysia spotted some richer merchants and even nobles littered here and there.
"Your Highness, you must relax," her handmaiden said, grasping her hands into her own. She was a few years older than Marysia and she was the only female attendant she'd been allowed to bring with her. At times, she wanted to hold onto her and never let go. "The King and Queen will welcome you with open arms, I am sure."
Marysia's smile was strained. "It isn't them I'm worried about," she admitted, chewing on the inside of her cheek. She looked down at herself, wondering if she was dressed richly enough for the court, if she would be considered good enough. Zosia knew what she meant without her even having to stay it, and she increased the pressure of her grip. Marysia wanted to look away, to pretend that she was the same confident, haughty princess she'd been in the Polish court, where she knew everyone admired her despite the rumours circulating about her. If there was one thing her father's never-ending love gave her, it was the respect of the nobles. All of them thought the same thing. If she wasn't the daughter of King Casimir, then he surely wouldn't dote on her as he did. Still, the rumours were ever present, and Marysia feared every day that someone would speak them out loud, bring them to life with their voice.
