The Cruel King and The Captured Queen

Chapter 4 - Why me?

I yawn and stretch out my rested muscles. Light creeps up on the edge of my bed. I rise, and walk over to the vanity, splashing water from the bowl onto my face. It has been a fortnight since I stumbled into that traveller. Fifteen days have passed since Chadwick's wench arrived at the door, and I set eyes upon his bastard son. Still, I have yet to decide my future plans. My choices are limited, either I am to help my parents by marrying Chadwick or free myself from Hull. I long to do the things, I can only dream of.

Slowly, I clothe myself, feeling lost. I'm worn from the constant thoughts, almost as though I've aged years! It couldn't have been only two seasons ago, that my engagement was finalized!

A soft knock fills the room. "Claire, we need to help in Sam's Fields," Octavius's voice echoes from behind the door.

"I'll be out shortly," I holler, quickly lace up the front of my dress.

"It's for the Harvest Festival," he responds.

I nearly burst through the door, so much joy overwhelms me! The door swings open, and Octavius's short frame fills the doorway. His wavy, light brown hair, flips into a curl just above his ears. Awkwardly, he scratches his patchy and unmatured beard.

Excitement has me almost jumping from the room, Sam always pays us in food offerings, after strenuous harvest. "I can't wait to make potato soup!" I cry out.

It is a happy, but hard working time for most of the folk around here. Almost as if it is a celebration, we unite.

"Neither can I! My stomach is already growling in anticipation!" Octavius cheers and makes his way for the door.

~

I wipe my brow free of sweat, the last bit of summer heat burning the fields. The scorching sunlight is beating down on those toiling away. It's about midday, and our basket, is once again is near full. By now, I have lost track of how many baskets were filled. Octavius lifts the container into the moving cart and returns to flipping the dirt. I kneel beside him, sifting for potatoes, looking up at his massive frame, today I feel slightly smaller than usual.

"Octavius?"

"What?"

"What if I decided not to marry Chadwick?" I ask.

Octavius lowers himself to one knee and pauses. I refuse to make eye contact and focusing intently on sifting the dirt. My eyes give a quick slide glance, towards him.

"Why would you say that?" he eyes me suspiciously.

"Maybe we weren't meant to be, that's all," I confess truthfully.

His eyes widen, he places his hand on my arm to stop me, and I look into his eyes, "Not meant to be? Claire, this is an amazing opportunity for us Tuckets. I'm not even sure how Father pulled it off."

"Neither am I," I mumble begrudgingly.

I came with nothing more than a small dowery, and no title. I only had my beauty, and reputation with the villagers.

Most of Sam's helpers have become exhausted as it became evening. Groups of people, slowly disperse back to the village.

"Claire, get over here!" Sam's voice calls from the across the field.

Both Octavius and I, look at each other in curiosity. We drop everything and rush across the field towards the farmhouse. Sam waits, looking uncomfortable, an unusual expression for him.

"What's the matter?" I ask once we reach him.

"Something is going on," he rushes out, "Come."

"Is everything okay?" Octavius asks.