The Last Queen

The Last Queen by C.W. Gortner Page B

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She dropped it in front of me. “Here are our letters to you. Every day, for weeks, we wrote. Each one was returned. Then one night, they
    came and locked us in. It was only by chance we found a way out.”
    I reached out with a trembling hand to the papers. “Chance―?” I echoed.
    “Yes. Once we realized no help would come, we grew desperate and implored
    that serving girl who brought us our daily meal. She took pity on us, agreed to carry
    our message to you in person after you arrived― if my lord Besançon didn‟t come
    with you, of course. We are fortunate he did not. Otherwise you might have found
    five corpses.”
    Besançon was with Philip. He‟s traveled with us throughout Flanders before
    retiring to one of his houses. I had mostly ignored his corpulent waving presence. Yet
    in all that time he had known my matrons were left here to subsist on one solitary
    meal, which was less than allotted to any stable-boy or scullery maid.
    Blind rage surfaced in me. I had let this happen, yes, but I had done so in
    ignorance. I could never have conceived of such treachery. In that moment, my
    dislike for my husband‟s premier adviser, for the man Philip regarded as his only true
    father, turned to hatred.
    I would see him brought low, I vowed. I stood, my fingers closing about the
    packet of letters. “Soraya,” I said, “Please, attend to Doña Ana and help Doña
    Francisca and our other matrons pack up their belongings. I‟ll send word as to where
    they should go. Beatriz, come with me. I‟ve urgent business to attend to.”
    _________________

    I SUMMONED MADAME DE HALEWIN. “You dare tell me you knew nothing of
    this? How is that possible? Did you not tell me to my face that my matrons would
    lack for nothing?”
    To her credit, Madame looked upset. Pallid and trembling, she said, “Your
    Highness, I swear it to you, I conveyed your order. I told them you would pay from
    your own purse. I―”
    “Yes? You what, madame? Speak up!”
    “I knew nothing!” She lowered her eyes. I thought she might drop in a swoon at
    my feet. She feared the worst, as well she should. I could see her dismissed this very
    hour to the same quarters my matrons were about to vacate, and had half a mind to
    do just that. “Your Highness, my lord Besançon said he would attend to your
    matrons‟ arrangements. he gave his express command that he was to be apprised of
    everything that transpired in your household.”
    “Yes, I‟ve been told as much,” I replied. “I also understand my lord the
    archbishop has taken to reviewing my correspondence, before I have a chance to. I
    plan to address this matter as soon as my husband returns. In the meantime, I shall
    personally review my finances and see how this disaster occurred.” I gave her a hard
    stare. “Now, madame.”
    She rushed out, returning minutes later with a leather register I‟d never seen, and a
    anxious avian-looking gentleman I‟d likewise never met, though evidently he was
    responsible for the register‟s contents. Bowing low, he introduced himself as
    Monsieur my treasurer and began to pedantically explain the process whereby money
    entered and left my privy purse, while Madame stood by, wringing a section of her
    gown. Listening to the poor man‟s panting explanation, staring at the cramped
    formulas, I hoped I did not betray the fact that they could be robbing me blind and
    I‟d never know it. As learned as I was, the intricacies of managing my own finances
    had not formed part of my educational curriculum.
    “My matrons have suffered unspeakable privation,” I finally interrupted, with
    deliberate severity. “I hardly see why you simply didn‟t use the monies I allotted for
    their maintenance.”
    “Monies, Your Highness?” He repeated, blinking at me as though I were some
    strange being whose language he did not fully comprehend. “I am aware of no such
    monies.”
    “How can you not be aware? I signed the vouchers myself before I left with

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