Queen of Ash

Sunlight hit the entrance of the cave they called home. Jo looked out the opening, as she had for the last 13 years, ever since she could first remember. Around the corner of the entrance Jean, her father appeared. He always seemed to know when she awoke, and he always kept watch.

Today was different though, the acrid smell of smoke that trickled in could tell her of that.

"What's burning Dad? It's summer there shouldn't..."

He winced, his face tightening on the large scar that ran down the left side of his face.

"The forest is burning. I was afraid it was her, but from what I can gather, it isn't. Her loyal subject may have finally realized what... treachery lives in their keep."

It had to be bad, her father never went to town, not for news, not for anything, his scar and his reputation made that dangerous. Though, she reflected, if regicide was in vogue, the crowd might have a far less violent reaction to him and his reputation.

"We ought to move, if they burned the keep, and are letting it spread to the forest, you aren't safe, not with that."

He pointed at the locket hanging from her wrist. When she was born, she was given the locket as a necklace, with a pattern on its back, proving her to be the princess of Saint-Troyes. Her father had rescued her from the palace shortly thereafter. Being considered a bastard, and her mother wanting her effectively dead, if not actually, her father insisted she keep the heart-shaped stamp as a reminder, more so than out of any respect for the Monarchy.

"We could bury it, leave, if the townspeople don't care about you we might be able to move away and finally get to a more normal life." She suggested.

"No. It's important for a man, or lady, to know where they came from, the locket is proof of who you are, but you are who you are, losing the locket doesn't change that, and if it is found out, better to use it to your advantage than to only have it as a liability. Men don't need proof to hate, but they do need it to be ruled."

He told her to pack, and began gathering their things into leather bags they had. Her whole life they had lived off the land, in that cave. That was not to say she was poorly brought up, in happier times her father had been a man of honor, high ranking in the direct service of the queen, her mother. This led him to not only keep the items needed for their survival, but also to teach her proper court manners. As she grew older, she even learned some basic leatherwork and housekeeping, to help their cave livable.

"So, are we heading for the border? The guards are likely pulled away if the keep is in chaos." She asked.

"No," he sighed, "Your instinct is good, but while I have no respect for your mother, or this kingdom," he practically spit that word out. "I joined our guard to stop violence, to help the common people. I probably should run for your sake but..."

"Hey," she interjected, "I am with you all the way. Knowing what my mother was like, I wouldn't want a father equally dishonorable."

He gave a rare grin. "Look on the bright side, you will be in town here for likely a couple nights or weeks, just like you always wanted."

"And the locket?"

"I hollowed out your right boot heel, right?"

she nodded.

"Put it in there, make sure you nail it well shut. Don't lose it, but don't show it either, I get the feeling all 'highborn' are reaching their end."

It was past midday before they made it to the keep, they had to circle around the areas of the forest that were burning, and avoid a border blockade run by common folk. They didn't want to attract that attention, her father had his sword, but he didn't want to fight unless he had to.

The forest was fed by a river, and because of this, had burned poorly. The town and outbuildings of the keep were a different story. The classic wattle and daub buildings of the better-placed townsfolk were half burnt, the thatched buildings of the poor were little more than a black stain by the road. Inside the actual keep, she was shocked to see the destruction to the brick buildings. It appeared the inside of most buildings had been lit ablaze and the roofs and supporting tenders left nothing but the carcass of society.

The attitude in town was a contradiction of the appearance. The townsfolk appeared to be attending some insane party in the ashes. The garrison of the guard was nowhere to be seen, and anyone of noble birth or association was either actively hunted, or on gruesome display. Down one street, Jo could hear the inhabitants of the local abbey singing something more appropriate to the situation in Latin. Her father taught her a lot pertaining to court rules and politics, but Latin hadn't made its way into her life yet.

Streams of people entered the keep, exiting with arms full of bounty, some wine, some gold, all drunk in spirit. A group of bloodied young men, swords in hand, cried out.

"We found the Queen's entourage but they are too pretty to put to sword, at least this sword."

Jo shuddered, she turned to ask her father why they were there, but he had silently shuffled through the crowd, toward the men.

"Unless you want your sword dropped from hand, I suggest you leave the ladies to find their grim fate alone, without your company." Jean growled lowly, hand on his shortsword.

The leader of the group, a redhead with his front tooth missing, laughed, "You want to have a go, I fought the Royal guard, even the elite of Bayonne. Some woodcutter can do me no harm." He eyed her father up and down.

"Not asking, leave." Jean repeated.

The redhead's right hand shot out, sword drawn, a slash aimed at Jean's midsection. Jean took a halfpace back while drawing his sword, and rolled his left side, his sword hand, away from the rogue. Redhead's sword bit air and he stepped forward to follow it. Jean took a full step forward, and with his empty hand grabbed the boy's left elbow. With a slight shove, and a flick of his left wrist, he hamstrung the lad. Jean looked to the other two compatriots.

"Take him to the abbey, God willing he will walk in a couple months. Unless you prefer to join him.”

Though short, the scuffle attracted all the wrong attention as the crowd noticed Jean.

"He was one of the guard wasn't he?"

"But that scar!"

“He was with the queen, stole the princess some years ago!”

“If he stole the princess we should find her and put both to the sword, we needn’t be part of any more political schemes for some over-zealous royal”

That last comment came from a rather fat man who exited the only brick building in the district that wasn’t in shambles.

Jean called out, “Robert the legist! Finding more criminals to let freely poison our city, or are you back to declaring false marriages?”

“Neither, Jean” Robert replied, “That Queen of yours proved faithless to us as well, wanted to sell us for her own power. I’d have thought you would be sympathetic to us, bringing her down.”

“I’d have thought rape below even your stomach for the lawlessness the books you hide behind exhort.” Jean retorted.

Jo didn’t like the look of the crowd, and with only a small bone knife on her, more for utility than protection, she slowly began to press back into the near wall, just as her father had taught her for their normal incognito visits to the outskirts.

The crowd began to look ugly with the half-drunk men passing by grabbing anything sharp to hand.

“Find the princess! We won’t be under anyone’s thumb. Certainly not anyone related to that damn queen. Once we have her, we can kill him.”

Jean shouted, first time Jo could remember he spoke that loudly.

“You are all in danger. She betrayed the princess and me before you got fed up with her, and her scheme was to marry into allies from our northern neighbors. With the guards missing as they are, if she is dead, the North is coming here. If she evaded your mob of fools, she will take revenge.”

Robert spoke up, “She’s deader than your marriage. I can show you the pike if you want.”

“Spare me,” Jean sighed. He spoke again with the voice Jo imagined he used to lead the elite guard.

“If you want to survive, don’t bother trying to fight, the old guard and military want nothing to do with you, and you can’t fight them and our Northern ‘allies’ when our rightful king returns. Your only hope is to get legal control of the throne so the North can’t annex us, and the guard can rally. They won’t want to watch their kingdom fall to the North.”

“You bastard, this IS an overcomplicated plan to put your waif on the throne!” Robert shouted.

Jean continued, “Hardly, my daughter was wise enough to suggest we leave, head East or West, and simply leave you all to your doom. But the smoke stank Robert, it stank of the creosote your brother used to sell. Tell me, did the outer ring get caught up in the merriment last night, or did you help ensure legal claims would flow as easily as the royal wine?”

Their argument was cut short by a messenger clad in bright red. Evidentially the North had fast horses, and good spies, Jo thought. This guy had to have left the North last night, unless he had already been in the city.

“Congratulations men of the south! His lordship King Boso has graciously decided to annex and help rebuild your keep. Despite this setback to your society, our army already marches to help you repair the damage, and bring order.”

The crowd rumbled with discontent, and the messenger, though shaken, spoke up. “Killing me will not stop the army, and the papacy will only support a legitimate claim to the throne.”

Jean spoke, “We have a rightful claim to the throne. The princess Jo has returned, any action to subvert her rule will be seen as an attack not just on our nation, but on the Pope, who confirmed her birth and her right to rule, as proven by her royal seal.”

He beckoned, and Jo walked through the crowd. She stood next to him, and as the members of the crowd that held spears, both made and improvised, pressed nearer, she reached into her boot heel, and held aloft the heart-shaped locket, the royal seal.

“I am the Princess, but I have lived poorer than you have. Support me, and I vow to keep the chains of oppression off you, be they forged in a Northern forge, or one from our home. All crimes against the former ruler will be forgiven, so long as you all pledge to me. I have no army to force you to kneel, so I ask this kindly. I highly doubt the esteemed Boso will be so accommodating.”

Jean spoke up as well, “That is a better deal for you than I would have advised, so you can be sure Princess Jo is actually your ruler, not some puppet.”

So it was from the ashes, a new era had begun.