Queen's disGrace Bk. 01 Ch. 05

"Well, I shall I discover a favorite food you can make me send word to you. But I must go, goodbye!" Marguerite beat a hasty retreat before the conversation returned to the 'ale.' At least he didn't know what it was. This next will be much more awkward.

The steward's chambers were not far from the kitchen in the servants' wing. He was in charge of the daily running of the palace, overseeing all the servants and ensuring everything that needed to be done was done. The current steward, Denis, had been in his position for decades, having served her father and then under the Regency Council. While he wasn't ever deliberately cruel that she could determine, he had obeyed the Council's orders exactly, even when it made her most uncomfortable.

"Good morning, Denis," Marguerite stiffly said as she entered his office.

"Your Majesty!" Denis said as he leapt up from his desk. "This is a surprise!" As his mind caught up with the astonishment of seeing the Queen, he realized what must have precipitated the visit. "How can I assist you this morning?"

I just have to spit it out. Ugh, 'spit it out.' "I was given to understand you were responsible for the mug served with my lunch yesterday afternoon. I want to understand how that came to pass."

"Didn't you enjoy it? The cook said you did." Denis shifted nervously, color creeping up his neck as he averted his eyes to the ground.

"That's not the point! I want to know who put that idea in your head! Or did you decide to do it on your own one day? Through some divine inspiration of the One God?"

"Er, no, I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but I had no idea it would be part of your meal! I was approached by one of the grooms, Raoul, who offered me a month's wages to collect it. He said he had a friend who had hired him for a nobleman that wanted it." The steward shrugged. "It wouldn't be the strangest thing I've heard, Your Majesty; forgive me for saying so, but nobles do have their ways..."

Another person involved in this conspiracy? Whomever this blackmailer is, he's careful. There's at least three degrees of separation between him and the mug, four if Raoul really does have a friend he's working through. "And it didn't occur to you to turn down a lewd request that might reflect poorly on the Royal Household?"

"No, Majesty." After looking shamefaced at the ground, Denis lifted his head to look at the Queen. Noticing the soft, thin fabric hugging breast and the generous cleavage on display, he remembered she did in fact drink the semen in the mug. "The, erm, cook asked for another mug today. Do you still want it?"

For a half second, Marguerite was tempted to say yes before she came to her senses. "Of course not! And if you are approached for any such 'jobs' again in the future, I want you to tell me immediately, understood?"

"Yes, Your Majesty!"

"Good!" With that Marguerite swept from the room. So it looks like I have to talk to the stable-hand as well, but first, I must meet with the Archbishop.

****

Marguerite squirmed self-consciously in her chair as the Archbishop stared straight into her eyes, unable to look down. I should never have accepted this dress from Lorenzo nor let Jacqueline talk me into wearing it, she thought. She had got stares all the way to the Church of the Holy Martyr, both from the nobles at Court and even from commoners in the street. Countless men had seen her breasts, albeit partially covered. Even being exposed to her past partners at the club hadn't felt as humiliating since nobody knew it was her.

"The Patriarch received Duchess Forsza in a gown like this?" Richaud asked in disbelief.

"He did," Marguerite confirmed, trying to sound more confident than she felt. While she believed Lorenzo, her exposure had shattered her self-assurance. The Queen felt vulnerable because the low-cut dress was exposed parts of her breasts and the soft silk perfectly outlined them. The cut of the maroon gown didn't allow for a shift, so she was completely naked underneath. Of course, despite all of that or because of it, she was incredibly turned on.

Richaud, while deeply uncomfortable, was pious and loyal enough not to question the wisdom of the Patriarch. "If His Holiness does not find it sinful, then of course I accept his judgement." The Archbishop took a deep breath. "I shall look at this as an opportunity for prayer and self-reflection on the meaning of obedience."

Marguerite had to fight to keep from snorting in amusement as she watched the rationalization wheel turn in the Archbishop's mind. "An admirable attitude, Most Reverend. It is in that vein that I have come to see you today. I have a spiritual question I wish to discuss with you."

The Archbishop brightened. "Of course, Your Majesty; how may I assist you?"

"I spoke with Lord Rathoway, and he told me of your suggestion to commission a statue of St. Elsebet in my likeness. I find myself conflicted. Wouldn't it be vanity? I shouldn't compare myself to a saint."

"Why not?" Richaud smiled, "I do not mean that flippantly, Your Majesty, but why can you not compare yourself to a saint? The saints are who we aspire to be. All of us."

"I suppose, but I am a sinner."

"As are we all. I am a sinner; you are a sinner. St. Elsebet was also a sinner. It is through the One God's forgiveness that we are redeemed. You may be a sinner, Your Majesty, but you can still aspire to be a saint." The Archbishop smiled and reached out to clasp Marguerite's hand. "It is normal to feel unworthy, but think not of your worthiness, but of the message the statue will inspire all LaRend to strive for, yourself included. When you look upon it, see an opportunity for prayer and self-improvement, not as an acknowledgement or realization of your worthiness."

Marguerite bowed her head for a moment as she considered the Archbishop's words. Will it indeed not be sacrilege? I can't help but think that if he knew specifically what my sins were, he'd answer differently. But if his overall point about it being the message and not the messenger is correct, does it matter what my sins are? "So it's not vanity, then?"

"No, Your Majesty, it is not. You may accept this honor with a clean conscience."

"Very well, I'll allow it."

"Excellent! I'll have the sculptor contact the palace to arrange sketches and modeling," Richaud said, looking incredibly pleased, "we can have an official unveiling at the feast next month."

"I'll look forward to it," Marguerite replied. I need to confess my sins, but where will I find a trustworthy confessor? I suppose it is a sin to doubt the sanctity of the confessional, but these are matters of State...

"You look troubled, Your Majesty, and your words suggest a preoccupation with guilt, or at least, a grave concern over the state of your soul." Richaud smiled kindly, "Sometimes we feel like we're being 'let off' easily in confession, that we deserve harsher punishment for our sins. This is false, of course, but as humans, we sometimes need concessions to our doubts and failings. Tell me, Your Majesty, are you familiar with flagellation?"

If she had been drinking something, she would have spit it out. "What did you say, Most Reverend?" Marguerite practically choked out the words in her shock at the unexpected question.

"Flagellation, Your Majesty, the practice of whipping oneself, or being whipped, as a means to atone for sin, or offer up your sufferings to share in the redemption of Mankind. This deeply spiritual experience brings us closer to communion with the One God. I have done it myself and found it greatly expanded my prayer life and inner relationship with Him."

Impossible. This cannot be happening. We are not having this conversation. "I have never whipped myself," Marguerite replied, "but it sounds satisfying." At least that's not a lie."When did you start engaging in flagellation, Most Reverend?"

"Last year, I read an account from the mystic Joam Jinchi, who wrote about slipping into a euphoric trance that brought him wondrous visions after regularly fasting and flagellating. I was determined to try it," the Archbishop smiled ruefully, "though I confess I have not yet had any visions, euphoric or otherwise."

"Quite fascinating."

"Is it something you'd be interested in trying, Your Majesty?"

Is this a practical joke? I swear by the One God, if I find out he's the blackmailer, I shall never forgive him. "I'm unsure about fasting and seeking mystical visions, but the flagellation sounds intriguing." Marguerite's mind started to race at the possibilities. Is this a way for me to indulge openly, with the support of the Church? That could solve so many problems. She immediately felt guilty, however, at her thoughts leaping to the idea of twisting a religious practice to gratify her perversions.

"Wonderful! I heartily recommend you try it, especially if you are harboring doubts about forgiveness or unworthiness." The Archbishop rose from his chair and walked across the room, where he retrieved a small flogger from a drawer. "This one is designed for self-flagellation; you'll note how short the straps are. You can swing it over your shoulder like so," the Archbishop demonstrated, flicking the flogger lightly over his shoulder to hit his back. "Though it is best to be unclothed when you do it, as the lashes could rend them." The Archbishop cleared his throat, "Especially if the material is thin."

Marguerite blushed at the reminder of her revealing garment. "I shall keep that in mind." Her nipples started to harden at the thought of being bare-chested while she flogged herself.

"Some people find it difficult to self-flagellate, at least at the beginning of their journey. It can be helpful to have a friend, or spiritual advisor, do the flagellating for them," the Archbishop explained, "if you like, I could recommend a guide to help you in this journey if you don't think you could do it yourself."

This has to be a cruel joke."I think I know someone who could assist," Marguerite replied, "if cannot manage for myself, but I appreciate the offer." Would it be different if I did it to myself? Would it still feel sexual? I wonder if doing it in prayer would satiate the hunger I feel.

"Well, the offer stands, Your Majesty. I can recommend several religious sisters eminently qualified for the task." The Archbishop sat quietly as he worked out how to address the next topic. "There are those unwilling to take such steps to purify their souls, Your Majesty. Those who reject the idea that their sins are morally wrong at all. I called for repentance, but we must still save those who will not save themselves."

"What do you mean, Most Reverend?" Where is he going with this, she wondered as a pit formed in her stomach, and why do I get the feeling that I'm not going to like it?

"A wickedness is infesting the Kingdom. That sordid business with the Duke of Buiscard and the servant girl is just the tip of the spear. Many in society have abandoned the One God's law and live steeped in their iniquity, consumed by their vices with no desire to change or grow." The Archbishop's formerly cheerful demeanor dropped, and his voice became icy. "Worse, and it pains me to be the one to tell you this, Your Majesty; I feel it is becoming institutionalized in LaRend. These deviants feel increasingly comfortable engaging in their perversions openly; if it is not nipped in the bud, we could find ourselves cursed and smote by the One God."

This is not what I need right now; I cannot have the Archbishop investigating depravity in the Kingdom, not when it could lead directly to me. "Surely it isn't as dire as you think. Mankind is weak, particularly to the flesh, it is true, but that is why the One God's mercy is infinite."

"Forgiveness is infinite but not unconditional, Your Majesty. It is predicated on genuine remorse and commitment to sin no more. I hear reports of degradations being worn as a badge of honor, and as I said, this licentiousness is becoming ingrained into the culture of the Kingdom. We need to stop it, and to that end, I have invited the Inquisition into the city to root out this corruption."

Marguerite silently counted to three. The Inquisition? I wasn't expecting that. Is that really necessary?" This is a disaster, but how can I stop this without offending the Archbishop? Prosecuting the Monastery at Navaire is already going to upset him. Marguerite sighed. "Aren't there are less intrusive methods that can be attempted first?"

"I fear it is too late for that, Your Majesty. While I shall never cease to implore the sinners to repent, I cannot allow those who will not seek redemption to drag the rest of my flock with them, nor can I allow them to continue to stray." Richaud looked at her sharply. "This is an ecclesiastical matter, Your Majesty. I do not need your permission to call in the Inquisition."

"No, but you will need me to lay judgement on anyone you find guilty." At least I have that; the Church must turn over the convicted to the Crown for punishment; they cannot do it themselves.

"That is so, Your Majesty, but you have always upheld the laws against sodomy, adultery, and other perversions. Will you stop now?"

Another sigh escaped her. "No, of course not." At least having one of Buiscard's men as Crown Prosecutor will limit the Inquisition's activities and prevent it from growing out of control. "But I expect them to work with the Crown; this should be a joint endeavor. I do not want them setting the Kingdom on fire and leaving me to clean up afterwards."

"Of course, Your Majesty, of course. Hand in glove, and they will be the soul of discretion."

I'm sure. At least this proves the Archbishop is not the blackmailer; there is no way he would invite the Inquisition if he were anywhere near a den of iniquity, right?

****

A smile formed on Jacqueline's face as she spotted Stephan crossing the courtyard. The rising sun, barely peeking above the palace on the far side, shined just enough to turn his light brown hair as golden as hers. She lifted the skirt of her gown, well, Marguerite's, but mine now, she thought, and almost dashed across the cobblestones to greet him.

"Lord Stephan! Good morning!" Jacqueline curtsied and greeted him with a bright smile.

"Good morning, Lady Jacqueline! How lovely to see you. I was starting to worry I wouldn't have the opportunity before departing." Stephan looked down at Jacqueline and seemed confused at how she was dressed before smiling a little awkwardly. "You look beautiful this morning, Jacqueline; you have a radiance about you I can't describe."

Jacqueline flushed with embarrassment, whether from the tender compliment or the memory of Marguerite between her legs, giving her that glow even she could not say. "Thank you, that is very kind. You're looking handsome this morning as well. I recommend enjoying your fine clothes as much as possible, as it could be a while before you wear them again." There was a tightness in her voice at the end as she worried about Stephan departing for war.

"Not for another month or so; that's how long it will take to concentrate the army and gather the fleet," he reminded her.

"Ah yes, and then it will be at least two weeks at sea to reach Tinnis, and then however long it takes to lure the pirates into attacking." Jacqueline smiled at him again, "See, your lessons weren't wasted."

"We'll make a fine general out of you yet, Jacqueline," Stephan chuckled.

"As long as you come back to continue my training," Jacqueline's voice caught again, and she was surprised at the swell of emotion she was feeling. What if I never see him again, she wondered. No, he has to come back. What we're doing is right. The One God will protect him.

"It will be a delight," Stephan laughed a little louder, "perhaps I'll let you command the war against the Hoehns."

Jacqueline smiled but drew herself up in mock pride, "It would be an honor."

They walked across the courtyard before Stephan frowned. "I'm afraid I have a lot of things to do before departing tomorrow and must be going soon. How about you? Are you busy today?"

"I have an appointment with the Duchess of Thiems. I hope to convince her to convince her husband to lend you some of his forces for the campaign."

Stephan nodded gravely. "That would help; the Floreze ships can only hold so many, but we're not close to that number yet. I'd feel better with a few more companies."

"I'll make sure you have them, My Lord."

"I believe you." Stephan looked at her for a moment, then kissed her softly. "Take care, Lady Jacqueline."

"You as well, Lord Stephan. Good luck, and I'll await your return." Jacqueline suppressed a whimper as he left. I'm being foolish; we're not even betrothed. We've only recently started... Jacqueline struggled internally over how to describe their relationship... courting? Marguerite approves, so maybe something can come of it. I hope he gets back safe.

After Stephan left, Jacqueline proceeded to the stables to get a horse for her journey to the country house the Duke and Duchess of Thiems kept outside the capital. The impudent stable-hand looked especially pleased with himself, but she paid him no mind except to give him a swat with her riding crop when he got too handsy helping her mount the horse. Thankfully I'm not riding side-saddle, so I won't have to endure his presence for the entire journey.

The trip to the Duchess' manor was short and uneventful. Upon her arrival, servants assisted Jacqueline from the horse and guided her into a sitting room where the Duchess was waiting. When Jacqueline was ushered in, the Duchess rose with a tight smile. "Lady Jacqueline, how good to see you. Come, join me for breakfast. I'm sure you're hungry after you journey."

"Gladly, Your Grace." Jacqueline sat across from the Duchess and made a small plate from the platters of food laid out. Faded yellow chrysanthemums decorated the table, adding a little brightness to offset the tension between them. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me; this must seem quite unusual."

The Duchess' lips curled further upward. "A little. Was your ride here pleasant? How are things at the palace?"

"It was lovely; it's a beautiful day. Actually I was worried about getting too much sun." Jacqueline took a small bite from her roll. How do I broach this? She wondered. Jacqueline had spent the whole ride to your estate trying to decide what she would say but still find it difficult. "The palace is the palace. Always busy, always some intrigue." If only she knew the half of it. "Not like this idyllic country life, I'm sure. Has your husband owned this manor long?"

"Not long. Well, I suppose that is relative. He purchased it for me after our children were born so I could remain close to Parce. He doesn't particularly care for Court these days and finds it more restful at his Ducal estate." The Duchess' eyes flashed as she looked at Jacqueline. "I prefer the city's attractions and intend to enjoy them for what remains of my youth."

Jacqueline looked at the Duchess, really looking at her for the first time. She was older than Jacqueline thought at first, but not much. Mid-thirties, probably. The woman looked tired or bored, or perhaps it was a worn-down sense of ennui, often found in the nobility who didn't have much purpose in life. She was still attractive but lacked vibrancy, Jacqueline thought.

"It has many attractions, we can both agree."

Jacqueline hesitated. "This is awkward, Your Grace. I hardly know where to start.

"Just open your mouth and tell me why you have come. I do hope it is nothing so tawdry as blackmail." The Duchess glared at Jacqueline as her tone turned frosty.