June 21st, 1615
The midsummer festival in Berengaria was among the most unusual festivals over the entire Merengian continent. Not only was it shared by nobles and commons alike, but they celebrated it together, rubbing shoulder to shoulder. It was the only day a year when a commoner could share bread with a noble and not expect to get his hands cut off for the privilege. The High King and his family always attended the festivities set up in the main square of the city itself; though they were, naturally, set apart from the crowd, they were still known for acknowledging anyone who caught their eye graciously, no matter their station.
With jugglers and contortionists in the center of the square, musicians providing music, hawkers and vendors plying their trade, the festival was packed with people. A beautiful sight, yes, but not one that brought any peace to the guards on duty. Word had started to trickle about the palace of the arrests made the night before, but nothing concrete had been shared. The guards surrounding the High King, his wife, and his sons were Felipe's men; the guards among the people were Maksim's. Their uncle's men, the King's Guard themselves, were waiting in the wings, as it were, ready to force a way between the people for a speedy and safe escape back to the security of the palace if need be.
At least they only needed to worry about those able to move. The Princess Marianne had sent her apologies, pleading a headache that would not abate, leaving the royals on the podium more than capable of shifting for themselves if need be. Felipe and Maksim, in particular, were staying close to their "brother", as much in reassurance as in protection. Somewhere in that crowd, danger was lurking.
Though the commoners had no way of knowing anything was amiss, the man who stood on the podium in the guise of the Crown Prince was doing his best to play the part, despite jangled nerves. Though he might share royal blood with those surrounding him, he had not been raised among them and knew his life might very well depend not only on how well he played his part but on how well those around him did their job to keep him safe. Thankfully, not much was expected of him, and he was relieved his sister was safely at the castle with the princess, but as his gaze traveled the crowd, it was difficult to tell which among them were friend and which were foe. He was no soldier, no guard, no prince, not even an actor - just someone who'd been been born with a face that nearly matched that of the Crown Prince.
As for the Crown Prince, he was there, too, somewhere among the guards, dressed as one of them, bearing his brother Maksim's standard on his surcoat, watching and waiting with eyes as sharp as a hawk's. The trap for an assassin had been laid and set. Now they waited for the assailant to make his move.
"Stephan." The Queen raised her hand as the perambulations of the princes brought them a little too close to the crowd for her peace of mind. "Come and speak with me. Your father is enjoying the acrobats too much to talk to me."
Beside her, the High King scoffed and chuckled, but didn't argue, knowing exactly what she was doing. They had both lived through too many attempts on his life not to know how to handle such things.
It was not his real name, and yet, in the days since he'd taken on the guise of a prince, he had become accustomed to being called by the other's name. The Queen, in particular, had been kind to him, though he knew it was her son's life she worried for and valued more than his. Whether she was trying to protect him or distract him, he wasn't sure, and yet, he had no choice to do as she asked. "Yes, Mother," he replied, like the dutiful son, as he moved over to stand beside her.
Of course, his movement also brought Maksim and Felipe closer, confusing the sight for any hopeful archer in the crowd. Taking Henry's hand between her own, Catherine smile reassuringly to the young man, speaking softly enough that no one but they could hear her. "It will not be long," she assured him. "It will happen today, while we are out here, or it will not happen at all. Smile, my dear boy. You are among family."
Thankfully, it seemed none were close enough to hear their conversation, only to see that mother and son were conversing familiarly and closely to each other. He attempted a smile at her beckoning, though it was not as genuine as she might hope. "I should not be standing so close to you," he told her, lowering his voice to match hers in volume, so that only those very near would be able to hear them. "I do not wish any harm to come to you, my ....Mother."
She laughed gently. "Do you think I could face your sister if I had not done all I could to protect you?" she countered, making Felipe and Maksim snort with laughter.
"Mother, we all know you're dying to get your hands on Elspeth," Felipe chuckled, rolling his eyes. He gently nudged Henry. "She never had a little girl to dress up and mother, you see. I was in ringlets until I was four."
"That explains much," Henry replied as Felipe nudged him. Over the course of the last few days, he'd spent more time with Stephan's brother than Stephan himself, and they'd become rather fond of each other. Henry's gaze slid from one brother to the other before returning to the queen. He knew they were trying to distract him, to get him to relax, but his nerves were would as tight as a spring. Still, he had to at least try to play the part. "Perhaps the Princess will give you a grand-daughter," he suggested, hoping it was so if she wanted it so much.
"Oh, I know she will," Catherine chuckled, patting Henry's hand once again as Maksim was called to his father's side. "But that does not mean I will not spoil you and your sister both. You are family, my dear, and you will find that family is worth far more than a title in this realm."
"I am a carpenter, Your Majesty. Nothing more," Henry argued, though he'd already been through this same conversation with her sons and had lost every time. He wondered if the queen only favored him because of Elspeth, but he did not seek to argue that his sister was not worthy - only himself. "What would I do as a nobleman?" he asked quietly. Yes, he could read and write - his mother, or perhaps his father, had made sure of that - but all he knew of being of royal blood he'd learned in the last few days while learning how to play this part. Somewhere in the crowd, his doppelganger - the man who had earned the right to stand here on the podium - wandered, weaving himself among the crowd of people, eyes wary and attentive for trouble.
"Archery and swordplay, jousting and horsemanship, a little politics," his aunt assured him, nodding graciously to a mother and child who had paused to look at the royal family. The little boy blushed and waved, making the queen laugh. "Indeed, you would be able to continue in your craft, if you so desire. Very few noblemen have practical skills beyond poking each other with pointed metal."
"Mother," Felipe protested laughingly, rolling his eyes as he stepped a little to the side to see more of the crowd. And within that crowd, not so far from the true prince, a man had paused, discreetly adjusting something beneath his cloak.
"Is that all they poke each other with?" Henry queried, the teasing among them putting him a little more at ease. "I've heard rumor Maksim, at least, is quite skilled at poking things," he said, the barest hint of a teasing smile appearing on his face as he jabbed good-naturedly at one of the brothers, who was actually his cousin. Though he had not said so much as yet, he'd once had lofty dreams of becoming a knight or a soldier in service of the High King, but he had abandoned those dreams to reality years ago.
The midsummer festival in Berengaria was among the most unusual festivals over the entire Merengian continent. Not only was it shared by nobles and commons alike, but they celebrated it together, rubbing shoulder to shoulder. It was the only day a year when a commoner could share bread with a noble and not expect to get his hands cut off for the privilege. The High King and his family always attended the festivities set up in the main square of the city itself; though they were, naturally, set apart from the crowd, they were still known for acknowledging anyone who caught their eye graciously, no matter their station.
With jugglers and contortionists in the center of the square, musicians providing music, hawkers and vendors plying their trade, the festival was packed with people. A beautiful sight, yes, but not one that brought any peace to the guards on duty. Word had started to trickle about the palace of the arrests made the night before, but nothing concrete had been shared. The guards surrounding the High King, his wife, and his sons were Felipe's men; the guards among the people were Maksim's. Their uncle's men, the King's Guard themselves, were waiting in the wings, as it were, ready to force a way between the people for a speedy and safe escape back to the security of the palace if need be.
At least they only needed to worry about those able to move. The Princess Marianne had sent her apologies, pleading a headache that would not abate, leaving the royals on the podium more than capable of shifting for themselves if need be. Felipe and Maksim, in particular, were staying close to their "brother", as much in reassurance as in protection. Somewhere in that crowd, danger was lurking.
Though the commoners had no way of knowing anything was amiss, the man who stood on the podium in the guise of the Crown Prince was doing his best to play the part, despite jangled nerves. Though he might share royal blood with those surrounding him, he had not been raised among them and knew his life might very well depend not only on how well he played his part but on how well those around him did their job to keep him safe. Thankfully, not much was expected of him, and he was relieved his sister was safely at the castle with the princess, but as his gaze traveled the crowd, it was difficult to tell which among them were friend and which were foe. He was no soldier, no guard, no prince, not even an actor - just someone who'd been been born with a face that nearly matched that of the Crown Prince.
As for the Crown Prince, he was there, too, somewhere among the guards, dressed as one of them, bearing his brother Maksim's standard on his surcoat, watching and waiting with eyes as sharp as a hawk's. The trap for an assassin had been laid and set. Now they waited for the assailant to make his move.
"Stephan." The Queen raised her hand as the perambulations of the princes brought them a little too close to the crowd for her peace of mind. "Come and speak with me. Your father is enjoying the acrobats too much to talk to me."
Beside her, the High King scoffed and chuckled, but didn't argue, knowing exactly what she was doing. They had both lived through too many attempts on his life not to know how to handle such things.
It was not his real name, and yet, in the days since he'd taken on the guise of a prince, he had become accustomed to being called by the other's name. The Queen, in particular, had been kind to him, though he knew it was her son's life she worried for and valued more than his. Whether she was trying to protect him or distract him, he wasn't sure, and yet, he had no choice to do as she asked. "Yes, Mother," he replied, like the dutiful son, as he moved over to stand beside her.
Of course, his movement also brought Maksim and Felipe closer, confusing the sight for any hopeful archer in the crowd. Taking Henry's hand between her own, Catherine smile reassuringly to the young man, speaking softly enough that no one but they could hear her. "It will not be long," she assured him. "It will happen today, while we are out here, or it will not happen at all. Smile, my dear boy. You are among family."
Thankfully, it seemed none were close enough to hear their conversation, only to see that mother and son were conversing familiarly and closely to each other. He attempted a smile at her beckoning, though it was not as genuine as she might hope. "I should not be standing so close to you," he told her, lowering his voice to match hers in volume, so that only those very near would be able to hear them. "I do not wish any harm to come to you, my ....Mother."
She laughed gently. "Do you think I could face your sister if I had not done all I could to protect you?" she countered, making Felipe and Maksim snort with laughter.
"Mother, we all know you're dying to get your hands on Elspeth," Felipe chuckled, rolling his eyes. He gently nudged Henry. "She never had a little girl to dress up and mother, you see. I was in ringlets until I was four."
"That explains much," Henry replied as Felipe nudged him. Over the course of the last few days, he'd spent more time with Stephan's brother than Stephan himself, and they'd become rather fond of each other. Henry's gaze slid from one brother to the other before returning to the queen. He knew they were trying to distract him, to get him to relax, but his nerves were would as tight as a spring. Still, he had to at least try to play the part. "Perhaps the Princess will give you a grand-daughter," he suggested, hoping it was so if she wanted it so much.
"Oh, I know she will," Catherine chuckled, patting Henry's hand once again as Maksim was called to his father's side. "But that does not mean I will not spoil you and your sister both. You are family, my dear, and you will find that family is worth far more than a title in this realm."
"I am a carpenter, Your Majesty. Nothing more," Henry argued, though he'd already been through this same conversation with her sons and had lost every time. He wondered if the queen only favored him because of Elspeth, but he did not seek to argue that his sister was not worthy - only himself. "What would I do as a nobleman?" he asked quietly. Yes, he could read and write - his mother, or perhaps his father, had made sure of that - but all he knew of being of royal blood he'd learned in the last few days while learning how to play this part. Somewhere in the crowd, his doppelganger - the man who had earned the right to stand here on the podium - wandered, weaving himself among the crowd of people, eyes wary and attentive for trouble.
"Archery and swordplay, jousting and horsemanship, a little politics," his aunt assured him, nodding graciously to a mother and child who had paused to look at the royal family. The little boy blushed and waved, making the queen laugh. "Indeed, you would be able to continue in your craft, if you so desire. Very few noblemen have practical skills beyond poking each other with pointed metal."
"Mother," Felipe protested laughingly, rolling his eyes as he stepped a little to the side to see more of the crowd. And within that crowd, not so far from the true prince, a man had paused, discreetly adjusting something beneath his cloak.
"Is that all they poke each other with?" Henry queried, the teasing among them putting him a little more at ease. "I've heard rumor Maksim, at least, is quite skilled at poking things," he said, the barest hint of a teasing smile appearing on his face as he jabbed good-naturedly at one of the brothers, who was actually his cousin. Though he had not said so much as yet, he'd once had lofty dreams of becoming a knight or a soldier in service of the High King, but he had abandoned those dreams to reality years ago.