The High Road (On Hold)

Chapter Three

          As the sun rose, morning light flooded Christelle's room. Her eyes hazily opened and blinked hurriedly to shield herself from the bright rays of the sun. Soon the rest of her body awoke and she propped herself onto her bedframe. It was a crisp autumn morning. The sun was a welcome source of warmth as the days began to grow colder. She dressed herself in a simple green gown with gold trim on the sleeves running down the length of the dress.

There was shouting outside. Clearly it was the yelling of men preparing for something. Christelle peered out her only window and saw something in the distance. A caravan was entering the city, and a large one at that. Must be another merchant caravan from the east, she thought to herself. King Godwine was very proud of the trade agreements he had made with the Moorish merchants in southern Iberia. Commodities like gold, tobacco and ivory are hard to come by in Britain and are only available to the wealthiest of nobility who have connections in the east. This caravan, however, was different.

Atop the largest carriage flew the red and white banner of England. Directly below it was a smaller banner with three gold lions on a field of red: the banner of the king.

King Godwine had returned from France.

Christelle ran down the steps and into the great hall. She flew open the hall doors and discovered scores of heavily armored troops waiting for the king's arrival. They stood idly in two column formations with a large gap in the middle. Yeomen archers, the pride of the English army, stood atop the castle turrets, longbows in hand. Thousands of commoners flocked the streets, waiting to catch a glimpse of their glorious monarch. Christelle didn't see how they could all admire him so much. He was just a man with a crown on his head to her; a distant father whose hatred for his enemies was far greater than his love for his daughter.

The trumpets began to sound. This signified the caravan had entered the city and was nearing the castle. Farthing Street ran all the way from the city gatehouse to the castle walls at the back of the city. Not a moment later, the grand carriage with its proud banners waving in the English breeze materialized at the castle gate. The armored horses brayed and trotted proudly into full view of the onlookers who marveled at the spectacle. Christelle, unimpressed, stood on the steps of the great hall. The carriage halted and the door flung open. Out came Godwine, the King of England. He was a tall man with broad shoulders. His black hair came down just above his ears and had streaks of gray running through it. A smile adorned his face as he waved to cheering peasants. His troops stood proudly at attention as he marched past them and into the great hall. Christelle came in after him.

"Servant, bring me an ale. And gather some men to carry my throne from the carriage", barked the king.

"Yes, my liege", cried the servant, and off he went.

"God's blood, my feet do tire. Ah, Christelle! I had not even seen you in all the commotion. Come, sit by your father."

Reluctantly, Christelle obeyed.

"The war in France rages, my daughter. Too many young men are dying in French lands. If we did not have possession of the castle Caen in Normandy, the French would have bested us months ago."

The servant comes back and lays a full tankard of ale on the king's stool. His eyes light up and he happily takes a swig of the swill.

"Ah, nothing like good English ale", says Godwine. "The French are sodden with nothing but wine. Dreadful stuff it is. Every town our armies sacked was filled to the brim with the vile drink."

Christelle remained silent, as she was perfectly content to do.

"Well then, daughter. You seem to have blossomed into a pretty young lady. I trust the ladies of the court are instructing you well" the king said, very sure he was correct.

"Quite well, your majesty", Christelle replied. She could not even address him as father; that would be 'unladylike'.

"I am sure you are probably wondering the purpose of my return, and right you should be. So I will tell you as plainly as I can. As I mentioned before, the war in France will certainly not be brought to a conclusion anytime in the near future, as anyone with eyes can see. Our armies are dwindling. We cannot support a war in the south with troops at home being sent north into Scotland. Something must be done to temporarily bring the war with the Scots to a ceasefire. And, my daughter, that is why I have come home."

Christelle sat puzzled. "My liege, I feel there is more to this matter than that", she said with a sinking feeling hovering over her.

"A perceptive young thing you are! But you are correct, there is more to the matter and I am glad you inquired of it because, as it just so happens, this matter involves you.

Christelle's eyes narrowed and focused on her king. "What involvement could I possibly have in a war between nations?" Christelle was almost too afraid to ask, as she was fearful she knew exactly what he would say next.

"You are going to travel to the castle of Inverness in northern Scotland to bring about peace talks with the Scottish King Malcolm. Our spies report he is due to inspect the castle in the coming weeks. Once you are in Inverness, you are to offer your hand in marriage to the Scottish Prince Edward, Malcolm's son. Once the marriage is secure, we will have peace between our countries! Is that not a splendid idea, my daughter?"

Christelle was speechless. Her life as she knew it was crumbling before her. She was to marry a Scottish prince and live the rest of her life as a trophy, like a tapestry hanging from the castle wall, only to be admired from a distance.