Queen

IX

I walked back inside my tent with the bread in hand and tied the flaps closed behind me. "Mistress?" Arne hadn't moved from his cushion, the goat cheese still in his hand. I couldn't tell if he was waiting for me, worried he was in trouble, or just didn't know where things were in the tent. "Am I, am I still allowed in your bed?" Arne asked, "Will anything change?"

I walked over to the cushion next to him and sat down. It hurt looking at his fearful face knowing what he thought. I loved him so much and he believed I owned him.

I had realized that I fell in love with him a little over a year ago. It hadn't been a big dramatic realization. It had been my monthly cycle, I was in pain, bleeding, downing pots of tea, scarfing down everything sweet, and seconds away from murdering my court for telling me about when they got kicked in the manhood; and Arne had still cuddled me. The thought that I loved him fell like a snowflake, gently and ever so light. Most men retreated from women on their cycle, but Arne just cuddled. I loved him so much.

Unfortunately, some grand duke had mentioned a prince that wanted to court me at that exact moment and got the wrong idea from the look on my face. I still get letters from that spoiled man.

"You will always be allowed in my bed," I told him, tearing the loaf apart with my hands to keep from crying and begging Arne for forgiveness. I have no idea if that'll help or make things worst. "Nothing going to change, unless you want to leave."

"Why, why would I want to leave?" Arne asked.

I pressed a chuck I ripped from the loaf into Arne's hand, next to the goat cheese. Maybe begging was needed, he didn't eat the goat cheese. "You're free," I told him, "And now you know it. You could leave, go home to your family, live your life."

The thought made my heart ache, but maybe it was best that Arne leave. I wouldn't want to stay if roles were reversed.

Arne sighed. "I'm not welcome," he said, "Mistress, I have, have no one to take care of me but you. My training and education didn't prepare me for life."

I blinked at him. "Education?" I asked, "You had an education?" How did I not know about this? "In what?"

Arne ducked his head and a blush spread across his face. "I don't want to, want to talk about it. Please Mistress?"

I sighed. Six years and I didn't know he had an education. But I wouldn't press. "Why haven't you eaten your goat cheese?" I asked.

"I don't know," Arne answered. He picked the cheese up from his hand and ate it. "What, what else do I have in my hand?"

"I was still hungry," I lied, "So I stopped by Cook's tent. The rest of our group had finished the stew so she gave me bread."

Arne took a bite of the bread and I celebrated inside. He was eating something other than goat cheese with out being told!

"Mistress," Arne said as he swallowed, "I feel the same way." My mind had a dozen different answers to the question of about what, but Arne gave the right one. "About slavery," he continued, "It is wrong."

I gulped. I didn't know if I could talk about this with him so soon. "You do?" I asked. My view on slavery wasn't popular.

But Arne nodded. "I grew up around slaves," he said, "My Abba owned some. He treated them well, better than most slave owners, but he was, he was uncomfortable with owning them to begin with." I had assumed that Arne's family owned slaves. His armor when we first clashed in battle screamed that it's wearer was the son of a rich man. "He tried to free one once," Arne added, "But the slave didn't want to go free. He said that he was born a slave and he wouldn't know what to do or how to act as a free man. That he was scared someone would abuse him because all he knew was obedience. I was only six and I knew that slavery was evil."