James turned the knob on the lamp, brightening the tent as the flame grew. It still seemed a waste to him, keeping the lamp lit all night, flame low and shielded. Still, he had to admit not having to fumble with lighting the thing in the dark was a godsend. He wasn't even sure if he could, at this point, use the firelighters these people had.
'These people'. They were his people.
"That's it, Marik. Drink up!"
Ewa sat in a well cushioned chair beside the bed, the baby feeding happily from the ox horn full of milk. James was getting used to these late night feedings. He suspected most Kings did not put up with such things, tossing the royal brat into some nursery far away, with the mother, bringing in another bed playmate for the duration. Maybe that would be the case with him, someday. For now, though, the novelty of just spending the night with a girl, the entire night and not just an hour or two stolen while the house was empty, made such inconveniences not worthy of thought. Besides, the kid was a quiet waker, and Ewa a light sleeper. There was no loud wailing to demand food, no screeching awakening him from deep sleep. No, the baby started to fuss, and Ewa instantly awoke to tend to him. James could probably even slip back into sleep after the minor disturbance.
He didn't.
They were alone. Truly alone. The camp, apart from the two guards outside the tent (and sentries farther out), was asleep. They could talk freely.
Among other things.
Placing the lamp on the royal desk, James bent down to a small wooden chest on the grass floor, its outside charred. It had appeared that evening, Ola again sending sarcastic gratitude to all those who had "rescued" royal belongings in the chaos of abandoning the Keep. Why the staff had not rescued more, given the value of all of this, he didn't know. Knowing the late King, had something about his possessions... well, maybe they thought the stuff was cursed. Or bad luck.
His hand hesitated over the lid.
"Captain Putaski talked to me today, James."
James stood, turning to Ewa. She was looking down at the baby, long black hair, again loose, falling down over her bare breasts. Beautiful. And... wild. Nude, with her hair like that, she seemed like a creature of the forest. He could picture her running through the trees, white skin flashing as she passed behind the greens and browns of nature. He loved that look.
"And what did our Captain want?" Bending down again, he picked up the small chest, standing to place it on the desk beside the lamp. Some of the char came off on his hands. Shaking his head, he wiped his hands together, trying to get it off.
"He... wanted to make sure I understood my position."
James turned to her again, frowning. Ewa's voice was bitter. It was never bitter. Even when talking about the other women in camp. He quickly went to her side, a hand touching her bare shoulder.
"Your... position?"
"Yes."
What in the world... James suddenly understood. He squeezed her soft shoulder.
"He's picking brides out for me."
"The Captain," Ewa said, voice overtly formal, "reminded me that the King must marry a girl from one of the major families. That I am... entertainment, until court is re-established. Any child I have will be a bastard."
"No he won't."
"He will not be your son, or daughter. They'll see to that."
James closed his eyes. The idea of even fathering a child with this girl- and she was still a girl- terrified him. You did not do that. Yet, neither could he not share his bed with her. Not now, lack of birth control be damned. She made him feel...
"And I don't care," Ewa said. She trembled under his hand. "I want to bear your children. I want to be with you. Even... even if..."
"I love you." He did. Or thought he did, and what was love, but how one thought they felt?
"I can't be Queen..."
James knelt down, a hand going to her thigh. Her legs parted without a thought, as they had for him since that first night. Ewa's eyes met his. He smiled.
"You are mine, Ewa. Whatever name they will or won't call you, you are mine. Our children will know we love each other, love them. Marik, too. If I have any power at all as King, you will be by my side for as long as you wish."
"Forever," she whispered.
"Forever."
****
Shanna dipped her glasses in the river, swishing them around a bit. Stupid things. They got so dirty. And she always forgot she wore them. She'd be wondering why the world was no longer sharp and clear, then, Oh! Dirty glasses!
Mind you, not having them would be worse. Seeing was a very good thing, in her book. What would she do if they broke? And they would, someday. Glasses didn't last forever. Heck, this was probably her fifth pair. She'd have to see if they could make them here. Copy hers.
At least she wasn't stuck with contacts.
The camp was awakening behind her. Shanna was tired. Sleep had been... slow in coming, restless and fitful when she had slipped into the land of dreams. She could not remember any of her dreams, just impressions of confusion, anxiety. Shanna did not need her unconscious mind to tell her that. What she saw and felt while awake covered those areas quite nicely.
Drying her glasses on her shirt, she slipped them back into place. The world became clear, sharp. Deceptively so.
"You're awake early."
Piotr's voice came from behind her. She turned, smiling. He smiled back. Something... had happened last night. Something magical. They had not even kissed, yet she felt more intimate with the young man than she had with anyone ever before. Kissing would come. She knew it.
"You too."
"One of the joys of being a soldier." He was dressed in just pants, his chest bare, muscular. She noted his feet, too, were bare. Before she could stand, Piotr came over, sitting beside her on the grass. "Did you sleep well?"
"No."
He nodded.
"I dreamed last night. Of your home. It... WE came from there? Poland is there?"
"A Poland is there. I know little of it, other than the biggest war in history started because Germany invaded it."
"Did we win?"
"Not at first, but all the good guy countries declared war on the evil Germans and we beat them back."
"Well, without us there, it's understandable Poland was under defended."
Shanna could not help but raise an eyebrow at the grinning teen. A cocky guy, this one.
"I'll let you think that."
"Do you still want to train this morning?"
"Yes. Let's do it." She stood, enjoying the way his eyes took in her graceful form. "I feel like whacking something."
****
The charred wooden box contained two books.
James sat at the desk, lamp lit in the dim morning light. Ewa still dozed lightly on the bed, the blanket half covering her bare form. Marik, awake but not fussing, lay in James' lap, playing with the fingers of his left hand. The King had tossed on shorts, mostly as there would have been something very wrong with putting the kid next to his bare wang. James was no pervert.
The first book, small, leather bound, seemed to be a diary. Who by, he couldn't say, but obviously someone in the Royal household. Perhaps even his predecessor. James would have to go through it, divine what secrets he could. The handwriting was horrid. About, really, what you might expect from someone no teacher had dared correct too harshly. He was not impressed.
The other volume... well, James had no idea what it was. It was about nine inches by six, two to three hundred pages held between battered, light brown covers. There was no title. No author. On the thin pages... the writing wasn't Polish, or English. Or any other language James could magically understand. The letters looked almost English, but not, with weird curved shapes and what looked like the number 8. Almost every page had illustrations, brown lines filled in with green, brown, blue. Plants, mostly, strange things he'd never seen. Flipping through, he stopped at one. A tree, with a flower blooming from the top. He knew that one. They had passed it, days ago, on the road. Were these plants from this world?
He flipped through. Later pages added bad drawings of nude women, often springing from plants. One series of pages contained concentric circles of nude women, holding stars, around fish, horses, scales.
Well, it was no Kama Sutra.
James felt there was something here. The book had been next to the diary. Had been important enough to be kept in a, mostly, fireproof box, and to be rescued. Yet, it had been secret enough to NOT be rescued by those taking charge after the King's death. He wondered who had returned it. That would be someone to talk to.
The tent flap opened.
"Time to wake up, Your Grace." There was amusement in Felek's voice. James closed the book.
"Can't I sleep another few minutes? I am King."
"I'm afraid not, Your Grace. Breakfast will be served soon."
"Ah, well." He motioned the boy over, lowering his voice. "Put these two books in among Ewa's clothing. Wrap them well, hide them."
"Yes Your Grace."
James trusted Felek. Trusted Ewa. If he had an inner circle, it was them. If he was deposed, tossed from these people and left to fend for himself in the wilderness of this world, those two he knew would follow him into the unknown. It would not be wise of them, but they would do it.
Would he follow them, if they were exiled?
A question for after breakfast.
****
"And there she is."
Shanna groaned as James motioned to the red haired girl standing on the side of the road ahead of them. She had hoped Anelie had forgotten about this, that the girl was flighty enough to have a thousand of these ideas a day with none lasting through a full nights sleep.
But, no.
She wore the same purple dress. very renaissance fair (as were most around her), with a green rope belt. Her hair was braided, pulled tight, falling down her chest. These women must do nothing but braid each other's hair. She was playing with it as the horses approached. Must be handy, having a toy like that attached right to your head. Shanna briefly wondered if you could tie it into shapes, like balloon animals. Her own hair, short, curly, African, did not lend itself to such things.
The girl looked up, her surprise at seeing them mounted obvious.
"Oh! Lady Shanna!" Her eyes went wide, blind with adoration. Shanna let out a small groan. Piotr's chuckle echoing that of James. Men. She hated them. Anelie suddenly knelt, bowing her head. "Your Grace! I'm sorry! I didn't see you! Oh, God, I didn't know Lady Shanna traveled with you! Please forgive me!"
Now, the girl had eaten dinner not ten feet from the King the night before. Was she THAT much of an idiot? Or was it just seeing him mounted, surrounded by Winged Hussars, that finally triggered recognition? Shanna was in no mood to give her the benefit of the doubt this early.
"You ate next to him last night. We are informal, but that doesn't excuse it."
"I'm so sorry! I didn't know that was the Royal Camp! Forgive me!"
"Oh," James said, bringing his mount to a stop beside the girl, "you are forgiven. But if you're going to serve, we expect better. Blindly following someone does not mean you have to be literally blind."
OK, Shanna had to give him that line. It was good.
"Stand up," she said. "We're holding everyone up."
The girl jumped to her feet, tossing her braid over her shoulder and out of the way. She bent down, picked up a backpack, slipping her arms through the straps. Shanna had to admire her dexterity. There was no awkwardness. The pack looked heavy, too. James started his mount forward, Anelie quickly moving over to walk beside Shanna's horse. Her mouth opened, but Shanna spoke first.
"We have to come to an understanding, girl. Constant talking annoys me. Do NOT babble." She looked down at her. "Understand?"
"Yes, Lady Shanna."
****
"My brother and his friends came back to the camp last night, and they couldn't BELIEVE I had met you! They wanted to know where you were! They spent all night telling the story again about how you led them to that burning raft, singlehandedly putting out that fire! Some didn't even know you were a girl! I mean, can you believe that? You're all girl! All woman! I mean, anyone can see that, even in the dark! Even with that dark skin! Where did you get skin like that? It's amazing! I've never heard of people with dark skin! Were you left in the sun as a baby?"
James tried to tune it out, having had some experience back in school. He had dated babbling girls. One quickly learning how to preserve your sanity while listening for key words and phrases. He knew Shanna wasn't getting half of what this redhead was saying, which could be a good or bad thing. Regardless, this girl was going to be slapped soon. That was obvious. The only thing in doubt was who was going to do it.
"Riders coming up behind us, Your Grace."
James turned his head at Piotr's words. Yup. Riders coming up quickly. He thought he recognized Captain Putaski. For the Captain of the Royal Guard, the man spent very little time in the Royal company.
"Let's wait for them off the road, Lieutenant."
"Yes, Your Grace." As one, the half dozen mounted guards took their mounts onto the grass beside the dirt and gravel roadway. James and Shanna followed suit. The look Shanna shot at Anelie as the girl began to follow would frighten the loudest babies into total silence for a good week.
The Captain looked annoyed. Respectful, yet annoyed. Commander Kosciuszko, Piotr's father, was with him, the feathers on his armor's wings freshly replaced. The man nodded his head to his son.
"Lieutenant."
"Commander." There was a definite humor in both their voices. James let his mount take a step forward.
"What can My Grace do you for you today, Captain? Any news from the rear guard?"
"All is well, Your Grace," the Commander said, sitting tall in the saddle. Captain Putaski nodded in agreement.
"Yes. All is clear, as far as we have scouted."
"Good. I like good news."
"As do we all, Your Grace." The Captain paused. "Actually, I'm here because there's been a small mistake. I know people have been bringing you items they... rescued from the Keep, which as King it is your right to take possession of once again. However, it seems one of the items was wrongly sent to the Royal Tent last night."
"Oh?" That did not seem possible. Besides, was not everything here, technically, his? They had shown James no Constitution or Magna Carta limiting his power, so he assumed he had quite a bit (once he was more secure, at least).
"Yes. A small chest, blackened by fire."
James tried his best not to react the wrong way. It had a royal diary. How could it not, in all ways, belong to him? He furrowed his brows, wishing he had taken an acting class or two.
"A... oh! That! Haven't even opened it yet. My hands got covered with crap just lifting it."
The relief on the Captain's face set James' mind seething. So. That was the way this was. Of all the...
"It would have not mattered if you had opened it, Your Grace, although the contents would not have interested you."
"Well, you're welcome to it."
"Thank you, Your Grace." The Captain motioned to one of the riders with him. The man rode off towards the Royal Wagons now down the road a ways.
"No... thank you."
****
James watched the older officers ride back down the column, the burned chest held by some poor Hussar. He was furious. At them. At himself. He had accepted he was a figurehead. Accepted being a powerless King, in charge of just those, literally, within his line of sight.
Well, his eyes had been opened. It was time for him to see as far as he could.
"Men," James said, moving his mount a few paces forward, swinging around to face his Winged Hussar guards. "Who are you loyal to?"
Piotr looked at him hard for a moment, his men behind him exchanging confused, worried glances. He leaned forward in the saddle, arms resting on the pommel.
"I am loyal to you, Your Grace."
"I too, Your Grace."
"And I."
They all followed Piotr's lead. James looked each in the eye.
"And if I give an order that Captain Putaski, or another... 'corrects', whose orders do you follow?"
"Yours, Your Grace." Piotr sat up straight, drawing his sword. "We are YOUR Royal Hussars. We pledge ourselves and our steel to you." Five other swords were drawn. James nodded.
"Even if the order comes from your father?"
A momentary wavering in the young man's face. He straightened even more.
"We follow YOU, Your Grace."
"Good. Now, let's get back to the column."
Shanna looked at him as the Hussars formed up around them. She let out a sigh.
"You emptied the chest, didn't you?"
"Yes. I want you to look at it in camp tonight."
"OK." Her heels kicked into the side of her mount. "You realize, now I can't kill Anelie."
"I know, and I'm sorry."
"I know you are." Her eyes met his as the they closed on their appointed place in the march. "But, I'm with you anyway."