Jack rolled over in bed, frustrated that he could not sleep. It had been many weeks since he had argued with Enid. He missed seeing the green light beckoning him to find Monty and ride to the lake to see her. How he wished he could go to sleep for days until his mind had settled these problems.

Staring out the window, he watched three riders pull up at the stable and dismount. Members of the council, he believed. How many had arrived he did not know, but he thought that most were here and waiting for the dinner to be held later this evening. And also waiting for the council meeting to be held in the morning where he knew they would argue briefly before agreeing to war against Blaekhurst. And of course now they would be confident in their plans because of his impending sacrifice to Lakeland.

He did not want to attend that meeting. He imagined the lords’ faces as they considered his predicament caused his stomach to churn. How he wished to develop some illness and avoid this thing that Derbyshire required of him. But the number one rule of father’s game left him with no choice. Duty had caused his family nothing but trouble.

Jack sighed and prayed for a flashing green light. Instead, he watched as Albert led the speckled pony out of the stable and rode off into the night. He was curious about Albert and his rides on this pony. But the curiosity stepped aside for the realization that the stable was unmanned. He had five or six hours of time before the dinner. He had to try to see Enid.

He blew out the candles in his room, dressed quickly, and grabbed his boots. He hoped the dark room would discourage the maids or nurse from entering. As he crept through the hall, he shrugged off his fear of being discovered. He reached the back stairs and began to run. He would be home soon enough.

Maybe.

Phillip closed the door quietly. All dark. Jack must be asleep, and he did not want to wake him. He needed to see Margaret, so he turned to walk the hall.

Margaret had relaxed quite a bit since George’s return. She visited him daily and had been the benefactor of George’s wit and teasing. How much of a difference George made in their lives. Phillip loved to see her smile and hear her laugh, even when he had not been the reason for that particular emotion. But they had grown much closer since the consultation with the doctor, so Phillip was not worried about George’s affect on his wife.

Phillip had been so proud of her when they talked to the doctor. She had not cried and had not reacted angrily. He had not been so sure. Jack’s words kept returning to him. If the doctor had been wrong about Jack, perhaps he was wrong about Margaret. This same doctor had almost given up on Jack when Jacqueline died during birth.

But Jacqueline did die. And Phillip knew he could not lose Margaret to the birth of a child. He loved her on a deeper level than Jacqueline and knew he could not lose her. It was a difficult situation. She had suggested that they not stop touching completely because they would miss each other too much. He knew she was right, but it made their situation much harder some days.

He arrived at her door and opened it to find much commotion. Margaret’s ladies were busy working on her hair and her gown for the dinner. A maid was tidying the room after lunch. Young Arthur was running through the room laughing and being chased by his nurse until he saw his father. As the toddler shrieked, the activity in the room came to a halt as the ladies bowed.

Arthur ran to Phillip who scooped him up and threw him in the air. How he loved this child and how sad he was that he had given away these precious years with Jack. He buried his face in his son’s hair. Margaret smiled and nodded at her ladies who quietly left the room. He grinned at her. “You are beautiful this afternoon.”

She shook her head, “My hair is half done and I’m not dressed.”

He crossed the room to kiss the top of her incomplete hair. “I know.”

Margaret reached for Arthur, “Everyone is here?”

Phillip nodded and handed off their son to his mother, who instantly began pulling her long hair.

“And have you checked on Jack?”

“I tried. Asleep, I think.”

“Best to let him alone. He’s a different boy right now, and he needs some time to adjust to his new role.”

“It is only a stomach ache. That’s what the nurse believes.”

Margaret stood and walked to the door in the corner of the room, passing Arthur through the door to the unseen nurse. She returned to stand in front of Phillip.

“’Tis not a stomach ache. It’s something much more than that.”

Phillip took a deep breath. He did not want to have this conversation with his wife. He caressed her cheek. “I will return to escort you to the dinner.”

She took his hand and walked to the bed. “We will have this conversation now, husband.”

Margaret crawled onto the bed and patted the spot next to her. Phillip reluctantly sat next to her and folded his arms.

She tugged on his hair enough to turn his head to her. “You must not force him to marry a child he does not know and does not love. Not for a gain of soldiers and strength.”

He watched her serious face and tried to think of the appropriate response. “Perhaps he will be blessed with a wife to love.”

“The problem with your plan is that you have no faith in your people. In your country. You are fearful that Blaekhurst will win and destroy what your father and grandfather and generations before you built. You must have faith.”

Phillip often wondered how Margaret had such strength, such intelligence. “It is the easiest way, wife.”

She pushed him away. “The easiest way for you, perhaps. The easiest way for Edward of Lakeland. But not the easiest way for Jack or poor Beatrice.” Her eyes flared, and she tossed back her hair, causing the pins to fall. “Did you ever consider why Edward suddenly wanted this arrangement? Why he reached out to you with the offer of alliance and marriage of his child?”

Phillip moved off the bed and walked quickly to the door. “Please leave matters like this to the council. I need to dress.”

Margaret jumped off the bed and grabbed his arm. “Don’t be a fool! He made the offer because he knows Derbyshire can win this war. He wants to be on the winning side. He uses his daughter horribly because he knows you lack faith in your decisions. You are afraid of poor outcomes.”

Too far, he thought. She said more than she should have, and Phillip knew that the last statement had little to do with war. He could not face this accusation and decided to leave the room. Handle on the door, he paused. He turned and saw the defiant chin, the tear-stained cheeks, and the white-knuckled hand grasping the bedpost. She held out her hand, and he went to her for the first true kiss in too many years.

Faith, not fear he thought.

Author’s notes:

1. Because I’m writing three sections for A2M with four different posts, I had to shift my writing schedule. So that I don’t completely overwhelm you lovely readers, I will post every two days. For example, I posted a Notes From the Margins on Tuesday, and today you are getting another chapter from The Unnamed Cinderella Project. The next post, another Notes From the Margins will be Saturday.

2. A note on the Notes. In July, one of these Notes will disappear and become available only for paid subscribers. The Pulitzer Prize journey on Notes will continue to show in everyone’s email.

3. I’m loving this part of the novel. Jack is grown up, Margaret is a strong wife to Phillip, George is George again, and Phillip faces many more obstacles on the road to peace for Derbyshire.

4. This chapter is a bit longer than the usual post. To be honest, it would have been much longer if I had obeyed my outline! In the last chapter notes, I had promised that Jack would learn how to swim. That scene was way too long to include here.

   ** Next chapter - Jack and Phillip are faced with difficult decisions. And there will be swimming.

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If this is your first peek at The Unnamed Cinderella Project, welcome to my experiment with serial novel writing. The novel is very much a rough draft with chapters being written weekly. According to Stephen King (and almost anyone else in the real writer’s world), sharing the rough draft is a bad idea.

But here we are anyway.

Just in case you’ve missed a few chapters or wish to read from the beginning, here is a handy dandy little button that should take you to all the chapters published before today’s Chapter 30.

The novel through Chapter 29

George tossed the bone to the plate and licked his fingers. His brother had been a difficult patient at first, but he had welcomed every meal. Phillip never tired of watching George eat - puddings, mutton, bread, cheese, and wine, always wine, had helped his brother gain weight and strength in the last few months. The old George returned with each bite, and laughter had returned to the family. Jack had been glum since the night of George’s return, but his brother found ways to make him smile.

“What time does the War Council meet tomorrow?”

Phillip snarled. “And just which maid did you flatter to provide that information to you?”

“I never have to flatter them. They love to tell me things, especially during my bath.”

Phillip laughed. “You only wish that to be the case. Don’t forget that I tell the steward who to assign to your care.”

“And for that, there will be some sort of punishment for you when I have fully regained my strength.” George waited, “The council?”

“Yes. They should arrive by tomorrow night.” Phillip paused. “All of them.”

George nodded, “I will need some time with Langford. I owe it to him.” George’s face darkened with a now familiar shadow, but Phillip could only imagine the torture that George had endured. Some things would need to remain buried for a while longer.

“I will bring him to you after the council. It would be best if you were not alone with him when you talk through Charles’s death.”

“That will be unnecessary. I will see him at the council meeting,” George grinned, “And don’t fold your arms that way. It’s annoying.”

“Since you insist, I will ask that you sit with Jack. He will need a friendly face, I’m sure.”

“He won’t agree, you know.”

“Jack is a loyal prince and will do what is best for Derbyshire.”

“Oh, I agree. Jack is of an age now where he needs to contribute to the kingdom. He might prefer farming or becoming a knight. Perhaps a priest. I do not see him as a willing victim.”

“He will not be a victim. Stop saying these things.”

George sat up in the bed and crossed his arms. “Now that I think about it, this is the worst idea you’ve had since birth, and that is saying something.”

“Please try to remember whose idea this is. Whose idea this always is?”

“What worst idea are you talking about?” Jack stood at the door, watching his uncle and father try to cover their shock that he had heard part of a conversation not meant for his ears.

Phillip waved Jack to the chair. “Sit down, son. We need to discuss some things with you before the council meeting.”

Jack sat in the chair, watching his father search for words.

George laughed, “Congratulations, old man. You’re engaged.”

Jack’s mouth dropped open. Phillip turned to George, “Five years in prison did you no good at all.”

Phillip took a deep breath and returned his attention to Jack. “I have a proposal for you.”

George burst into laughter, sinking into his pillows to catch his breath.

Phillip cleared his throat and continued. “Edward of Lakeland has a young daughter. He has offered us her hand in marriage. To you.”

Panicked, Jack shook his head at George, who was still laughing, “Has an offer been sent?” He gulped, “Has it been signed?”

“Of course not, boy. I would not do such a thing.”

“Then my answer is no.”

George knew he needed to step between father and son. “Don’t you see how brilliant it is, Jack? You marry Beatrice and Lakeland no longer has an accord with Blaekhurst. They will fight with us to finish off Alan’s obsession with Derbyshire. It is the simplest way.”

Jack murmured, “Then we are at war with Blaekhurst?”

“Not yet,” Phillip said. “But we meet with the council tomorrow, and I’m sure we will be after that meeting.”

“I would rather fight than marry some stranger, some random princess.”

“Beatrice and Edward arrive in two days. We will allow you to get to know her, and then we will discuss the match like men.”

Jack stood, fists clenched at his sides. “I won’t marry to avoid war. Alan deserves to be destroyed for what he did to Uncle George. For the threat against me. For his vile use of Catherine. I don’t know why we have waited this long.” He turned and left the room, doing his best to slam the door behind him.

“Like father, like son.” George grinned at Phillip.

“You forget that I made the same argument.”

“I noticed that you left out that she is only twelve.”

“Fourteen.”

“The boy is right, though.”

Phillip sighed. “I know.”

George reached over and took Phillip’s hand. “We’ve made this mistake once before.”

“I know that, too.”

Writer’s notes:

1. This is a shorter chapter than what is normal, but the next bit is just too long to include. In fact, I may have to split the next important part of Jack’s life into three sections. I’m thinking about it.

2. For this moment in Jack’s life, I didn’t really want much internal thought or much description. Jack’s independence is on the line and so is Derbyshire’s future. I wanted it to be an argument with strong emotions. I think it needs to be a little rougher, but that will come with revision.

3. I really love having George back in the family. Phillip and Jack do not have much of a sense of humor, so their time together often seems a little melodramatic. George brings the fun moments. Almost every family I know has a George. To be honest, in the original version of my story, George died at the end of Book One. He has told me that he feels it unfair that he had to die and be imprisoned in this book. I listened to him and have fashioned a much more interesting storyline for this character.

4. Please consider sharing or restacking my little story. Also, hearts, comments, or sweet teas are so appreciated. Thanks for your support and for reading. Y’all are the best.

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***Next week, Jack learns how to swim - the hard way.

Phillip stepped into the main stable, which was empty of servants. Albert had told the truth about the extra sleep stolen by the young stable hands. He wondered what those boys would think if they knew their king had arrived while they were sleeping. With luck, they would never have that worry. He would only be here until Albert arrived.

As he waited, Phillip moved through the stable, petting the horses. He stopped at Adwen’s stall to feed his favorite a carrot. Although past his prime, Adwen could still give any of the royal horses a fair race. Both Adwen and Montbury had served them well and deserved the easier lives they were living. Pulling another carrot from the bucket, Phillip turned to offer the treat to Montbury. But the stall was empty.

Phillip whirled quickly, taking inventory. Two empty stalls meant two missing horses. Albert rode Caedric, the new speckle horse. That meant that either a stable hand had taken Montbury for a ride, which was a crime punishable by death, or that Jack was out for a ride without his permission. Something which Phillip felt, at the moment, he could happily also punish by death. Apparently, he was not the only member of the family who knew the royal stables were guarded by sleeping boys.

He would have more to discuss with Albert tonight than any news gathered at the recent meeting and prayed for an immediate return of his spy.

Catch up on the novel here!

Jack opened his eyes and slowly turned his head to find Enid watching him, her head looking up at the sky. The tiny sliver of moonlight allowed through the trees painted her blond hair white, making her even more angelic. She had been listening to him for the last half hour without moving from her place on the rock in the lake. He would stay in this spot with her forever.

“Father paces the castle night and day about George. I think he is keeping secrets from me.”

“You are young to worry so much.”

“After all, how long should it take to have a baby? It’s been a year with no news. For all we know, George died in prison and Alan laughs at us from his castle.”

“Come swim with me.”

“Wait. How old do you think I am?”

“You must be less than one hundred but more than eighty.”

Jack laughed, “I would like to know how you came about that calculation.”

Enid slid off the rock into the water and surfaced at the shoreline. “Swim with me.”

Jack stood and stretched. He heard Monty whinny and realized he had stayed much longer than he should have. Squatting by the edge of the water, he shook his head at her. “Not until you tell me why I am at least eighty.”

“Because I am one-hundred and twenty, and you are much younger than I am.’

He grinned and reached out to touch her hair. “You are no more than seventeen. We are the same age, I’m sure.”

“Ah, but I am not like you at all. Remember?” She turned and dove under the water, allowing him a brief glimpse of her backside.

“Yes. I’m aware.”

Enid surfaced in the middle of the lake and tilted her head backwards. Jack sighed. She was doing it again, putting thoughts into his head. He could not stay and learn to swim. And he most definitely would not kiss her.

“I have to return to the castle.” Jack turned to leave. Two steps from the shore, he tripped and landed on his stomach. He tried to stand or roll over, but he couldn’t move. He looked over his shoulder. Enid has one long wet arm wrapped around his right ankle.

“It wasn’t an invitation.”

He felt himself being pulled, “Let go.”

Enid grabbed his other ankle, dragging him backwards into the lake.

Jack found a tree root and tried to hold on, but she pulled him hard enough to cause him to lose his grip. “You’re strong for a girl.

“I have told you. I am not a girl.”

One final heave landed him in the lake, almost up to his neck. Enid moved in close to him and circled her arms around his neck. For a moment, he wanted to kiss her. But when Jack stared into her eyes, a brief chill shot through his spine. “Are you going to kill me?”

Enid shoved him away. In seconds, Jack flew up from the water, landing hard on the shore. He stood quickly, backing up towards the edge of the forest. She had disappeared. “Enid?” Jack shouted.

He waited. No response. Monty whinnied again. Enid appeared on the far side of the lake, glaring at him. “Please understand,” he begged. “I’ve been taught to expect death my whole life.”

“You are not afraid of death, boy. You are afraid of life.”

Jack inhaled the insult, letting it work its way through his heart and bones. He watched her turn her head up to the sky and close her eyes, telling him to leave. “I will not return,” he shouted.

As he stomped towards the edge of the woods, Jack knew that he had lied. He would return because he had not kissed her yet. And he had to kiss her.

Phillip flipped the page of his book. He thought he might have read this page three times. Tales of noble deeds on battle were not sitting well with him tonight as he waited for his son. He knew that if the sun came up before Jack came home that he would be at war with Blaekhurst before the next sunset.

Albert’s meeting with the newest lord of Blaekhurst had not been productive. There were rumors that Catherine had already given birth to her first child, but Alan had not made a formal announcement. The alliance felt they were being watched and wanted to postpone the next meeting. The Derbyshire lords had begun to doubt that George was being held captive and wanted to wage war on Blaekhurst. Phillip wanted patience. He wouldn’t refuse a night’s sleep either.

Sighing, Phillip leaned over the book just as he heard the door creak open. Jack stood in the doorway, carrying his muddy boots.

“Where have you been?”

Jack crossed the room, set his boots on the floor, and fell into his bed. “Riding.”

“You’ve been gone several hours.”

“I stopped for a while.”

Phillip slammed his book shut and whirled to face Jack, “Then I will ask again. Where were you?”

Jack rose to face his father. “I rode to the edge of the meadow and entered the forest. There is a small lake in there which I rather like.”

Phillip rose and walked to the window. He was too angry to respond. He had not shared the alliance with Jack, so he would have a hard time explaining why he was this mad at his son. The sun had begun to share its light across the meadow. “Jack, did you bother to think of the possible consequences of your actions?”

Jack had a brief memory of being dragged into the lake. “I can assure you that I was safe.”

Phillip smashes his hand against the wooden window frame. “And I can assure you that you were decidedly unsafe. Blaekhurst is a problem, yes, but you have a heart condition. If we don’t know where you are, we would never be able to find you in time to save your life.”

“Not one episode in eleven years, Father. Not one.”

Phillip signed. Perhaps it was time to tell him the whole story. “You are the heir to the throne, boy. If something were to happen to you, Alan would have no fear of us at all. George would be killed, if he hasn’t been murdered after all this time, and Margaret and Arthur would be hunted like animals.”

Jacques sits on the edge of the bed. “What would you have me do, Father? War and rescue are both futile. We sit on our hands and do nothing but wait for the day that the villain strikes.”

“I forbid you to enter the woods again. In fact, you must not leave the castle again without my permission and a guard to accompany you.”

Jack moved to face his father at the window. “I am seventeen, Father. I am old enough to court and to marry. I have seen...” Jack stopped talking as Phillip turned from the window and ran from the room. He turned to the window – a lone horse plods slowly across the meadow. Jack pulled his boots on and ran to catch his father. The king ran at a heart-pounding speed toward the lone horse. Jack’s younger legs allowed him to catch his father, and they reached the slumped rider at the same time. Jack grabbed the reigns of the horse to stop the animal just as George sat up in the saddle.

“Queen Catherine of Summerston has delivered a fine healthy son.” George falls off the horse into Phillip’s arms. “One of you might have considered bringing a fresh horse.” He laughed through a coughing spasm before he fainted. Phillip and Jack took great care to get him inside the castle.

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***Next week, George is back and playing matchmaker, again!

For those who have missed a few chapters or wish to start from Chapter One, this button will miraculously take you to the new section of According to Mimi dedicated to The Unnamed Cinderella Project. At least I hope it will…

The novel until now

On to this week’s chapter…

Phillip walked from the stable to the castle. The conversation with Albert relieved him of his first task. Albert would find the speckled pony and represent Derbyshire in this dangerous new alliance with the lords of Blaekhurst. Phillip only hoped it would not be a trick. They needed some way to trust Bates.

He knew that Margaret needed to be his next task, but he dreaded facing his wife. On the ride from Blaekhurst, he had decided to tell Margaret that her life would be in danger if she were to have another child. Now he wavered. He needed to tell her about George. He had asked Arthur not to share that news, but he doubted whether his father-in-law had kept that promise. And then there was the death threat against them. Bates might have lied about that to get him to agree to work with the rebellious lords. But he believed the man to be sincere in his hatred of Alan, which made him even more trustworthy. So much to tell her.

As he entered the castle, he found a maid and ordered wine, bread, and cheese to be delivered to the queen’s chambers. He was hungry and would not wait until morning to eat. He passed by Jack’s room and thought about stopping there first. But he knew that would be a much longer conversation. Bates had said not to share the meeting with anyone outside of the man he sent, which was now Albert. Phillip did not see how he could avoid telling his son. It was late, so he decided to share his news with Jack in the morning. He was sure that his conversation with Margaret would last well into the morning hours. And he needed to be rested to make plans with Jack.

Phillip continued his walk through the castle, making his way to the royal apartments. How he wished he could stop at his bed for sleep. Montbury had suggested bath and bed should be Phillip’s priority upon his return. While that was a pleasant idea, Phillip knew that the crown must take precedence over the man. He would discharge his duties to his wife before bathing. Even now, the idea that a lord of the realm would suggest that the king bathe and go to bed seemed ridiculous to Phillip. He would need to keep Montbury’s concern in check.

He reached Margaret’s door, knocked, took a deep breath, and entered. She sat on a rug by the fire with a chalice of wine in her hand. She raised her wine in a toast to him, “Welcome home, m’lord.”

This will not be easy, he thought.

Phillip crossed the room, poured his own wine, and bowed to her. He sat in the chair by the fireplace and gulped his wine. He noticed a longsword by the bed. Grabbing a piece of bread, he looked at his almost snarling wife and pointed to the sword. “I see you were prepared to defend my son.”

“Our son,” she snapped.

Their eyes locked, and he waited. She did not move or look away, and Phillip wondered if her defiance annoyed him or aroused him. Either emotion could be dangerous. He finished his bread and moved to sit near her on the rug.

“There are many things I need to tell you that will help you protect yourself and our son. These things would be better said to a wife that is not hostile. Would you prefer I return another day?”

She shook her head, reluctantly. He knew she wanted him to leave, but that she was much too curious or afraid. He took her hand as he wondered where to begin. It had been over a year since he had held the hand of his wife, and the memory of where this had led before caused him to return to the chair and his cheese.

“Margaret, there are a great many things that have happened. First, has your father been to see you?”

“No. He sent word that he would bathe and rest tonight and visit in the morning.”

Phillip smiled. It seemed a natural course for Arthur to bathe and sleep first. Some crowns were heavier than others. At least the old man had kept his promise.

“We did not make the alliance with Blaekhurst that we wished to make. In fact, we have been instructed by Alan to remain in our homes and cause no further disturbances between our countries.”

“And how does King Alan make these demands of the kings of Derbyshire and Rothby?”

“Because he has leverage. Catherine has married Albert of Summerston, and we will be relieved of this charge after their first child, Alan’s heir, is born.”

She stood quickly and charged him. “Always Catherine. Why does Derbyshire care if Catherine has one or ten children? We will fight for this country. Jack proved tonight that we will never give up ground because of Alan’s petty revenge and demands. Do you lack the courage of the young prince?”

Phillip grabbed her arms, “He has leverage. He has George.”

Margaret whispered, “He’s alive?”

Phillip nodded and watched the tears gather and fall. When he could speak, he said, “He will be released to us after their first child is born.”

“Is he well enough to survive more years of prison?”

“He was weak when I left.”

“Is she expecting a child?”

“Unknown. We were ushered out rather quickly after Alan made his demands.”

“Then we gather our forces and attack. We cannot allow this evil to be perpetuated on this country.”

“If we try this, George will be killed most definitely. And you, Jack, and Arthur will be in grave danger. I am working through some plans that might help us work through this aggression,” he paused. “You must trust me.”

“How can I? You’ve made me believe things before that were not true.”

Phillip wiped a tear from her cheek. “I stopped coming to you as husband because the doctor believes another child will take your life. I cannot lose another woman I love to a death I cause.”

“How can he know this to be true?” she stammered.

Phillip gathered her close, allowing her to sob. “I do not know, but we will go see him together.”

“But you will leave me for this. I’ve heard of queens sent to convents for this very reason. How can I believe you will remain true to our vows?”

He took her hand, leading her to their bed. After climbing onto the mattress, he pulled her close to him, stroking her hair. “You are Margaret, defender of Arthur and friend to Jack, future king of Derbyshire. You are wife to Phillip, who loves you. No other lady will ever take your place?”

They remained close and relaxed for a few minutes. Margaret leaned up on one elbow to ask “Should you be here, m’lord?”

“I wish only to sleep in the comforting arms of my wife. I have also traveled for three weeks without bathing. I am sure you are safe.”

She returned her head to his shoulder and listened as he relaxed into a deep snoring sleep.

Author’s notes:

1. As some who are following closely might remember, I have envisioned a much deeper role for Lord Montbury than was introduced in the beginning of the story. I plan to go back through this first rough draft and layer him in earlier. But since he will play a more important role, it is necessary to build that now to avoid too much rewriting or changing of Book One (yes, we are still on Book One).

2. The title for this chapter refers to the difficulties that Phillip is facing, but also to the fear that Margaret has about losing her husband and role of queen. She would be expected to have children and will fear not being able to fulfill her duty. It makes me sad to do this to her, but it’s a piece of the revision of Cinderella that is thematically important.

**Any support you can throw my way - hearts, comments, restacks, or sweet teas - is most appreciated! Y’all are the best.

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Jack stood still in the empty banquet hall, staring at the large log he had placed near the wall. He stepped back and threw his father’s knife across the room towards the log. It caught the far-right side and sheared off, throwing splinters across the floor. He shook his head and sighed, making his way across the room to retrieve his knife.

Jack was bored. Arthur had been ill, so Jack decided to remain in the castle in case he was needed. Of course, Margaret had not let him see his little brother, but Jack’s friendly maid kept him up to date on the baby. He would talk to father about this maid because she deserved something special for her kindness to Jack.

His father was late, Jack thought. Very late. As he returned to his throwing spot, Jack took a deep breath and stepped back once again to release the knife. This time the knife stuck its landing hard in the log. Jack grinned and ran to retrieve his knife. He stopped short as Albert entered the room.

Albert bows, “Good evening, young Prince. A group of horses approaches quickly from the west.”

Jack pulls his knife from the log. “Father?”

“That is our guess.”

“Have we no messenger from the king? No letter of instruction?”

“No, sire. There has been no advance notice.”

Staring at Albert, Jack places the knife in its scabbard. Jack knew that all parties arriving at the castle provided notice. All friendly parties.

Albert watched Jack arrive at the same conclusion and they both ran through the hall and down the corridors of the castle, bursting through the front doors. Jack stopped to catch his breath, so Albert took the opportunity to grab him by the arm.

“You’ll not do what you’re thinking.” Albert jerked his head towards the soldiers on the parapet and at the doors of the castle. He leaned toward Jack. “You need to do something.”

Jack looked around. Servants and guards stared at him. He thought about the War Council and his lessons. He remembered George’s telling of the death threat overheard so many years ago. And then he thought of his father.

He noticed the women standing near him, including his old nurse, Mary. “Get any women outside to return to the kitchens. Lock the door and then go immediately to the queen.”

He turned to Albert, “Get the stable hands to ride to the village and rouse as many men as you can to come help the soldiers. Tell them to come armed. They will report here within the hour.”

He pointed to the youngest of the two soldiers by the door, “You. Run to the captain of the guards at the gate and tell him to prepare the men to defend the castle. Return as quickly as possible and find me near the queen’s chamber.” He looked at the older guard, “You will come with me. The two of you will stand guard over the queen and the young prince.”

Horrified, Jack watched his group remain still. Albert caught the eyes of the prince and very slightly nodded. Jack threw his hands in the air and yelled, “Move. Now!”

His team scattered, and Jack turned to race through the castle again. He reached Margaret’s door. Unsure what to do, he knocked and entered.

His chubby little brother toddled over and latched on to Jack’s leg. He noticed the angry look on Margaret’s face as he scooped Arthur into his arms.

“I beg your pardon, sire, but I have asked you not to contact me while your father is away. Please leave.”

“Margaret, horses have been spotted in the distance headed this way. It might be Father. It might not be. Two men will be guarding your door, and Mary will arrive soon to stay with you and Arthur.”

“There has been no messenger?”

Arthur clapped his hands on his brother’s face, producing a brief smile. Jack crossed the room and handed her the baby. “No messenger.”

Mary entered the room with another frightened nurse. Jack rushed to the door but turned to Mary, “Protect this child at all costs.”

As Jack rushed through the door, he heard Margaret call after him, “Be careful, m’lord.” As Jack left, Margaret whirled on Mary, “Shut and bolt those doors. They will go through me to get this child.”

It had been less than thirty minutes since Jack had put his plan in place. Men gathered inside the castle armed with swords, knives, and clubs. Hurriedly dressed in breeches and woolen or hemp shirts with animal furs draped around their shoulders and homemade hats upon their heads, many with nightshirts that peeked out of the tops of their breeches, the crowd looked decidedly nonthreatening.

The men spoke to each other in low tones, occasionally scowling at him. Jack understood those looks. He had woken them in the middle of the night. The smirks and random winks aimed in his direction were much worse. They would never have ridiculed his father, even in private.

Jack stood in front of them. He cleared his throat and said, “You have but one job here tonight and that is to protect the queen and the young prince. In our first battle together,” he looked around the group, “if we are to battle, that is, I promise to remain by your side.” Jack paused, watching the men. Most were staring at him. “It is an honor to lead you.” He bowed and walked through the doors of the castle.

Darkness dominated what little view he had. The silence bothered him until he realized what noise might bring. Albert stepped in next to Jack. “All appears ready, young prince.”

Jack breathed in the cold air before answering, “Ready?”

Albert nodded. “Yes. All entrances to the castle are barred and heavily guarded. As you instructed.”

Jack smiled. He did not remember issuing those instructions.

“It is time we go inside and allow these guards to bar this entrance.”

“Not yet.” Jack inhaled the cold air. And waited.

The clanking of the gate sounded in the distance, followed by the sound of horses.

Albert grabbed his arm, “We go now, Jack.”

Jack turned to Albert. “The guards would not have let down the gate unless the order came from a friendly voice.”

Albert listened to horses approaching the castle. Jack nodded to a servant who left and returned with a torch. The horses arrived at the front door of the castle, and the servants and guards bowed as they recognized their king.

Phillip jumped from his horse, grabbing his son for a hug. “Why were there no lights?”

Jack looked at Albert. “You didn’t send a messenger.”

“Ah.” Phillip looked at the guards and the closed doors. “Where are Margaret and Arthur? Have we been attacked?”

“We heard reports of men on horse, and we had no news of the party.” Jack waved at the guards, who opened the doors, revealing the villagers prepared for the attack. We were prepared to defend the queen.”

The men laughed as the villagers lowered their weapons. Phillip smiled at the embarrassed Jack, “You did the right thing. This army would not be defeated easily.”

Phillip raised his hands to ask for quiet. “Your bravery tonight against unknown odds is noted and appreciated. Thank you for your devotion and service. May God be with each of you throughout your journey home.”

Father and son watch as the villagers file out of the castle. Phillip turned to Jack, “The rest of the party will stay this night and depart early in the morning. Find the steward and let him know. I need to speak with Albert and then see the queen. Come to my room in an hour. I have news.”

Jack watched his father and Albert walk away in the dark.

Author’s notes:

*This is a rougher draft than most. Honestly, I debated about deleting this from the novel, but I wanted to show some maturity in Jack. And I most definitely wanted to see this in him after Phillip’s revealing trip to Blaekhurst.

*If you’ve read this far, thank you! I’m working on figuring out some Substack thingies that will allow me to share a link to the whole novel.

*Any support you can provide - hearts, comments, sweet teas - is always most appreciated!

Buy me a Sweet Tea!

Phillip’s eyes hurt. He hadn’t slept much since abandoning George in a Blaekhurst prison. His loyal party had stayed close to him on this journey, keeping him moving forward on the return to Derbyshire. Phillip wondered if they had stayed so close because they were afraid that he might rush back in a foolish attempt to save his brother. If so, they knew him better than he thought.

Phillip’s head hurt. The sounds of the ride disturbed him, so much so that he often felt he would be mad before they reached home. Relatively little conversation occurred among the men. Phillip alternated between wanting complete silence and needing them to talk to him about anything but Blaekhurst. For the first time in his life, Phillip believed his men feared him. Perhaps they were right. The horses’ hooves and whinnies tapped holes into his mind, and Phillip repeatedly wished he was alone.

Phillip’s stomach hurt. They were near the river where George’s party had been ambushed all those years ago, and his stomach lurched at the thought of the bloody shores and dead men they had found. He needed a moment to himself. He pulled his horse to a stop and raised his hand so that the rest of the party would stop as well. As Phillip turned to face them, he saw momentary concern on Montbury’s face. “We’ll rest here for a short time,” he said.

He watched his men dismount and then turned his own horse towards the riverbank. Montbury nodded, “I’ll keep you company, sire.”

Phillip shook his head, “The last thing I want is company. Stay here.” Phillip ignored Montbury’s frown and his “As you wish, sire” as he navigated his horse through the trees to the river.

As he reached the water, Phillip paused to appreciate the silence. He quickly dismounted from his horse, running into the river. His momentary peace passed as his body tried to rid itself of the memory and pain of everything that he had endured in his life. He could not stop vomiting and choking on tears for quite some time. His eyes, his head, his stomach were worse, and Phillip only wanted rest. He crawled out of the water, leaned against the closest tree, and promptly fell asleep.

The lightning and rain jolted him awake. Phillip rested his head against the tree, closing his eyes to listen to the rain. How he wished he could stay in this peaceful moment, where his family did not need him and his heart would simply leave him alone. He smiled thinking of George’s expression if he could read Phillip’s mind on this rainy evening. The smile spread to a chuckle.

But only briefly. A sweaty hand clamped over Phillip’s mouth and a knife pressed against his neck. His attacker leaned into his ear and growled, “Don’t make a sound. My name is Liam Bates, and I’m one of Blaekhurst’s lords. I will let you go if you agree to listen to me quietly.”

Phillip took a deep breath and nodded his head.

Bates released Phillip and walked around the tree to face him. He was a bear of a man with a full red beard and giant head of unkempt red hair, soaked through to the skin. If it wasn’t for the rain and thunder, Phillip would have believed he was dreaming. He would like to know how a man of this size had come through the forest so quietly.

Bates took a quick look around before squatting in front of Phillip. “I promise that I am no danger to you or your party. In fact, I’m here to make a pact.”

“Alan sent you?”

Bates turned and spat toward the river. “No. Alan’s plan is to destroy you and your family and take Derbyshire as part of Blaekhurst. There will be no peace with Alan as king.”

Phillip’s stomach lurched again, “So George will die in prison?”

“He’s safe, I promise. Alan has not told all to his lords, but I do know that he wants you all to die together. Soldiers and lords are forbidden to touch you. Your brother will be returned once Catherine has a child.”

“And who do you mean by all?”

“Your entire family. Wife, children, brother, and your foolish, weak father-in-law. Most likely several of your family servants as well.”

Phillip stared into his eyes. He believed the man was telling the truth. “When? How?”

Bates sighed, “I don’t know. Catherine must have a child before he takes his next step. We have time.”

“We?”

“Aye. There are five or six powerful lords, myself included, who despise this wicked king who uses us to make war and carry out his revenge as he increases taxes. We wish to align with Derbyshire in peace.”

“How do we make this happen without Alan? What is your plan?”

Bates grinned, “We haven’t got one. My land is near where we sit, so I was asked to make the first contact.”

Phillip said, “Very well then. Who are the others? When can we meet?”

Bates looked around and stood quickly. “Find a speckled horse and a rider you can trust. Send him to these woods on the first night of the full moon. We will send our own messenger with a speckled horse to meet with him.”

With that, Bates walked quickly to the riverbank and stepped into the water. He turned to look at Phillip, “I trust you to keep this to yourself and that one soul. If not, you fight Alan alone.”

Phillip nodded as he watched Bates quietly sank into the river.

Author’s notes:

1. In case this is your first read of TUCP (the Unnamed Cinderella Project), this is a rough draft version of a Cinderella revision novel that will ultimately become a trilogy. This first book creates her family and her world, which is crucial in understanding what happens in the next two books.

2. Just FYI - the story, characters, settings, and typos are all me - none of this work was done with the help of any AI platforms. This work began with an obsession with Cinderella that turned into screenplays that I am now (sort of) converting to a novel. The picture I use to identify this Substack work is a painting done by a friend that I purchased at a charity auction. I’ve had the painting and the story for years. (The earlier map I used for the story was an AI creation, which I really kind of hated. The painting tells so much more of the story.)

3. In May, I will do some work on my Substack to move TUCP into its own publication. Because of its length, I think it would be better to isolate it from the other work I am doing. Since I am not the most technological person on the planet, it might take me a hot minute. But once it is done, you should be able to easily find the chapters.

4. In the last few chapters, I’ve found more depth to Alan, so much so that I am considering giving him a chapter or two of his own. I’ve also discovered another plot point that will increase the role of the War Council and Montbury. Sadly, those will be included in the rewrite.

5. It feels good to return to the land of the imagination and the magical world of Derbyshire. I’ve increased my research (read “obsession”) of the Medieval world, so you might be seeing more references to the things I am finding that are weird or cool or just gross.

6. Thanks for your patience. I lost subscribers in the last few weeks during my break, so I truly appreciate that you are still here and continue to read.

   This post is public so feel free to share it. As always, I appreciate your hearts and comments on the story.

   Share

Jack had spent most of his last two weeks alone. He had seen Margaret only once and his young brother twice, when he had managed to convince the nurse to let him in the room when Margaret had gone out for a walk. But both times he found Young Arthur asleep, so he did not stay. The baby had grown and looked healthy and safe, as far as Jack could tell.

So, he dared the guards to stop him at the gatehouse as he crossed the drawbridge into the meadow. He felt the eyes of the soldiers from the parapet watching him cross the meadow on Monty. And he didn’t care. He would escape from the gloomy, angry silence that had become his home.

The rainy morning suited his mood perfectly. He hadn’t spoken to a friendly soul since his father left. Even Albert, his old friend in the stables, would turn to work and his own grim thoughts. Jack breathed in the silent worries of everyone around him. He hoped the cool wind and rain would calm the storms in his mind. He and Monty continued to plod through the wet, muddy meadow.

Until the flash of green light from the forest cut through the gloomy sky.

He hesitated for a second before kicking Monty into a full gallop. They reached the edge of the forest within a few minutes. Jack drew his small knife, dismounted, and tied Monty to the closest tree. The light flashed again, brighter than before, and Jack entered the forest.

Jack inched through the thick trees, cutting vines and small branches to make his way further into the forest. The light flashed again, brighter than he had remembered. Lowering his head, he pushed through the thick foliage with his arms and kicked anything that stopped him. He stopped to get his bearings and heard splashing.

Breathing heavily, he lunged through the last tree branches into a clearing in the almost pitch-black forest. He turned and chased the sound of the splashing. The light flared as he stepped into the water.

He spotted the long blonde hair just as he fell into the ice-cold lake. Something hard pushed him up in the water, until his face broke the water, gasping for air. He crawled onto the dry land and rolled over to see the face of the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Jack stared for a moment before realizing her hand held his boot. He scooted backwards from the water and bumped his head on an ancient laurel tree.

She did not smile at him, only watched as he rubbed his head. Her long blonde hair covered her body, disappearing into the lake. Her shining green eyes didn’t blink as they stared at each other. Slowly, she tilted her head towards the tops of the trees, as she closed her eyes, and rolled backwards under the water. The familiar green light shot upwards.

In the silence of the forest, Jack watched her surface. The light vanished, and Jack asked her, “Is your name Enid?”

She nodded.

“How would I know that?” he asked.

“Because I put it there, boy.”

Jack leaned forward, watching her eyes light up like the stars. “That’s a good trick.”

“Do you swim, boy?”

“Not very well.”

She laughed a little. “Why not?”

“I have not been taught to swim. I have a weak heart.” Jack didn’t understand why he was admitting these things to her.

“Do you play games?

Her voice felt like whispers along his spine, and the look in her eyes made his head hurt. “I’m not sure what games you mean. I played Fox and Geese with Margaret but not anymore.”

“You are wondering if you should kiss me. And who is Margaret?”

Jack jumped to his feet with a hot denial, “I am not!”

Enid smiled. “And Margaret?”

“She is my father’s wife.”

“But not your mother.”

“My mother’s dead.”

“Is that why you never smile?”

He watched as she tilted her head, once more rolling into the water. He waited for her to surface and said, “I think I need to leave.”

“But you have not told me your name, boy.”

“It’s Jack.”

She slowly shook her head. “No, it is not.”

He searched her face. “Please stop reading my mind.”

She laughed. “I cannot take things from your mind. I can only put them there. But it is difficult magic, so I only do it when I truly wish to give something to someone.”

And she had given him her name, Jack thought. It was a gift. He squatted down by the water. “Jacques,” he said. “My name is Jacques.”

“It is musical. I will sing your name until I die.” She swirled in circles in the water.

Jack knew he would have many soldiers on top of them if he didn’t make his way back to the castle soon. He stood, looking for his knife.

“You won’t find it. The sharp thing. It flew out of your hands when you hit the water, and it is still sinking over there.” She pointed to a rock jutting out of the lake.

Jack sighed. “I have to get it.”

“My pool is as deep as the center of the earth. Your sharp thing will sink forever. You cannot swim well enough to capture it.”

“That was my father’s knife.” Jack turned to trudge out of the woods. He heard a giant splash. A loud thud echoed in the forest, and Jack whirled to find his dripping knife sticking out of the laurel tree.

Enid’s laughter bounced through the trees as Jack pulled the knife from the tree.

“Will you come see me tomorrow?”

“Perhaps,” he murmured, watching her swim in the lake. “How will I know you’re here?”

“I will send you the light. I’ve been sending you the light for years, but you have not always followed it.”

He reached the edge of the clearing and could hear Monty whinny. He wanted one final look before leaving the forest.

“You want to kiss me now, don’t you?” she asked.

“Stop putting thoughts in my head,” he warned, hands on his hips.

“I didn’t,” she whispered. Enid dove into the lake, leaving Jack to find his way out of the dark, cold forest.

Author’s notes:

1. It’s been seventeen days since I published the last chapter. I hope you enjoy this one, and I apologize for the wait.

2. Cinderella’s story is about the magic, so I knew at some point I would need to introduce the magic. Ta Da! Enid begins the magic.

3. I’ve been researching some things and making notes on revision. With any luck, they will make the story richer and more interesting.

4. My story and picture do not use AI in any form. Sadly, you will spot a couple of typos or misspelled words. But I refuse to let anything correct me. At least until I have an editor or agent! HA…

5. Please consider sharing, restacking, or leaving a heart. I appreciate any and all comments!

Buy me a Sweet Tea!

Phillip, Arthur, Helmsley, Montbury, Blake, and Aldrich waited for King Alan. Upon their arrival, they had been taken through the gloomy castle into a room with a large table and chairs. From the only window in the room, Phillip watched the Derbyshire guards in the courtyard. The party had agreed that they would not remain in Blaekhurst overnight, so the guards remained on horseback waiting for the nobles to return.

Phillip looked around the room and found no food or drink. Considering that this had been a plan to discuss a peaceful alliance, he had expected a more friendly welcome. He was sure that Helmsley fumed at the lack of food.

Something felt off. Alan had not greeted them upon arrival and guards stood outside the room that they had been taken to. It had been almost an hour since their arrival, and he realized that the others were restless. He closed his eyes and prayed for a quick agreement and exit. When he opened his eyes, Montbury stood before him.

“We should leave, sire. Now. Before Alan arrives.”

“Tell me why.”

Montbury looked around at the other nobles and Arthur, dozing at the table. “This is a trap. I’m sure of it.”

Phillip smiled and shook his head. “You sound like Jack. We are here to make an alliance that will prevent bloodshed. Alan is not a fool. He wants peace as much as we do.”

Montbury looked out of the window and pointed at the guards down below, still on their horses. “Have you seen much activity in this yard?”

“None. All is well, Montbury.”

“Is it? The fact that those men have sat on their horses for the last hour with no approach from anyone in Alan’s household should indicate to you that Alan’s intentions are not peaceful.”

Phillip drew a deep breath just as a guard shoved open the door. Alan entered alone. He stopped quickly and pointed at the men seated around the table. “Arthur, this is to be between us,” he said. “These men are welcome to wait for you in the courtyard. On their horses.”

Phillip and Arthur exchanged uncomfortable looks before nodding. As Alan stepped outside the door to call his guards, Phillip leaned into Montbury to whisper, “If we are not out in thirty minutes, we are dead or prisoners. Leave us and go immediately to Jack and Margaret.”

Montbury nodded and left with the Blaekhurst guard escort.

Phillip noticed Alan’s heavy use of the cane and slower gait as he took his time to take a seat at the table. He wondered if perhaps Alan had softened, calling them here to make peace before his death. But that felt unlikely.

Arthur began immediately, “Phillip and I believe that we have a reasonable offer for peace among us.”

“Is that so?” Alan smirked.

Arthur coughed, “Yes. If you will hear us out, I believe we can reach an accord to resolve the bad blood between us.”

“Five years is a long time.”

Arthur glanced at Phillip, who only stared out the window. “Tis been three years of fighting, Alan.”

Phillip watched the nobles reach their horses safely before saying, “I think that Alan refers to a different broken agreement.”

“Perhaps,” Alan murmured. “I hear congratulations are in order for the birth of your son.”

I should have told Montbury to leave immediately. Phillip realized his mistake and turned to face the table. “Negotiations are over.”

Alan slapped the table. “Nonsense. You fine men have the more powerful alliance. Please continue. I am most interested in your desire for peace.” Phillip knew that Alan’s words did not tell the truth that his sneering face could not hide.

Arthur sighed, “Phillip, please sit. We need to discuss this as leaders.”

Phillip leaned against the window, folding his arms across his chest. Arthur cleared his throat. “As you know, Alan, Edward of Lakeland threatens to the north. We believe that our best defense is to unite against him. Your son-in-law would be welcome to join us.”

“I’m sure Albert would be most gratified to be included.”

Phillip began to pace. This is taking too long, he thought.

Arthur continued, “If the four of us joined forces, we could defeat Edward easily. As part of our accord, Rothby and Derbyshire will agree to cede all surrendered lands and payments to Blaekhurst.”

“How gracious of you. I find it hard to believe that you would give up so willingly. Why, your father would have insisted on an even share in the land.” Phillip stopped pacing to stare at the king. Alan continued, “What is it that you truly want, m’boy?”

“Peace. These feuds have caused me enormous personal pain and loss. As you well know.” Phillip hesitated before asking, “What is it that you want, Alan?”

Alan grinned. “Food, I think, and ale. I’m sure you’re hungry, Arthur. Shall I order some refreshments?”

Phillip stopped pacing. “I have no love for you or your games.” Phillip pulled his dagger from its sheath. He plunged it into the wooden table inches away from Alan. “I could end your life now with very little regret.” Arthur stood quickly.

Alan eyed the dagger and then laughed. “Food and drink it is,” he announced, pounding on the table.

Phillip watched as two men entered the hall dragging a prisoner bound in heavy chains. They dropped the prisoner on the floor by Alan’s feet. He remained face down with his arms and feet extended, covered in dirt, bruises, and dried blood. The prisoner pushed himself up to his knees, and Phillip’s stomach sank as he noticed the missing finger on the prisoner’s hand.

“So. I heard you got married,”

The voice of the prisoner dropped Phillip to his knees. He moved the knotted gray hair away from the eyes and wiped some of the grime from the face as he watched a tear slide down the thin cheek.

“I’m still more handsome than you.” Phillip knew it was most definitely George. Enraged, he jumped to lunge at Alan. Prevented from choking Alan by the swords of the two guards, Phillip returned to his position. His eyes rested on his dagger, still stuck in the table.

“Jack warned me that this would be a trick,” he muttered.

George’s eyes searched Phillip’s face. “Jack is alive?”

Phillip glared at Alan as he answered George’s question. “Yes. Alive and quite well.” He prayed that he could control his anger and somehow manage to get the three of them out to the courtyard and away from this nightmare.

Alan waved Phillip and Arthur to chairs. Frightened, Arthur sat immediately. Phillip moved only after a sharp look from George.

“As touching as this reunion might be, we must return to the discussion of our accord.”

“George comes with us,” Phillip began.

Alan laughed, “Dear boy, you are in no position to dictate the terms. Perhaps you should return to the window after all.”

Phillip crossed the room to the window and found his guards and nobles surrounded by a large party of men wielding swords and daggers. He shook his head slightly at Arthur.

“There is no alliance to be made among the southern countries. Rothby and Derbyshire made a rather large mistake joining forces. Now that you have a grandson by this man, Arthur, you have no choice but to stand by him. After all, blood is the most important factor in all of this.”

Arthur weakly spoke up, “She is my only child. Daughters must marry.”

Alan leaned forward in his chair. “Indeed. My only child is also a daughter. And, as you say, they must marry.”

Phillip returned to stand by his brother. “Catherine is married. Get to your point.”

“Foolish boy, the point is that she has not given birth to a child yet. Being Queen of Summerston does not secure her future nor that of Blaekhurst. With no heir, their country could be swallowed up by one with heirs. Possibly Derbyshire.”

Phillip pulled his dagger from the table, returning it to its sheath. He tried to speak, “Arthur has already expressed our willingness…”

Alan angrily interrupted Phillip. “You are the only man here whose country stands to benefit from an alliance.” Alan leaned on his cane to stand, “And as you so aptly pointed out a few moments ago, these feuds have caused great personal pain.” Alan and the cane moved quicker than Phillip thought possible, striking George in the stomach.

Arthur stood, “This is barbaric, Alan. Surely old wounds heal.”

“One week ago, in those same chairs, Edward of Lakeland, Albert of Summerston, and I finalized an accord against the two of you.”

“And the terms?” Arthur asked.

“Simple. While the two of you remain within the boundary of your lands, you are safe. While your nobles, your knights, your armies are silent, your countries are safe. Raise one hand against us, and we will destroy every man, woman, and child in every village.” Alan nodded to the two guards who grabbed George by the arms to lead him out of the room.

Phillip shouted, “Release him immediately.”

“I think not. Your young brother is considered a prisoner of war. He will be returned to you upon a secured secession for Blaekhurst and Summerston.”

“You must be insane to think that I will leave here without him.”

“M’boy, you are welcome to stay and join him in his cell. Nothing would make me happier. No ale for prisoners, unfortunately, but we do feed him on occasion.”

Phillip and Arthur stand stunned. George looked over his shoulder at Phillip. A small, barely perceptible shake of his head sobered Phillip.

Phillip swallowed his anger. “So George is released upon the birth of the secession to your throne?”

Alan nodded.

“And we are for all purposes held prisoner in our own homes.”

“I rather like that assessment of the situation. You have a fine mind, you know.”

Phillip glared as he asked his final question, “And Catherine. Is she aware of your accord?”

Alan smiled, “Catherine is not your concern.” He waved at the guards who disappeared through the door with George. Several men with weapons drawn entered the room to surround Phillip and Arthur.

“Your men and horses await you, gentlemen. You have little time to leave Blaekhurst before our nobles are aware of your presence. I am told they are not fond of you.”

Phillip and Arthur followed their escort from the room. As they passed him, Alan scoffed. “Terribly sorry you could not stay for ale.”

Notes:

*Yahoo! I have been looking forward to writing this chapter for a while! George is very much a trickster type of character, and I have missed writing him.

*I’ve started working on the revision of the first several chapters - just notes and odd word changes here and there. But what I do know is that Montbury will feature more prominently when I do the first rewrite. In other words, get ready to see more of him.

*This was an unusually long chapter for just one scene. When I think of the scope of the trilogy, I worry about wasted chapters and scenes. Believe it or not, I deleted several ideas and reconstructed this chapter quite a bit.

*How are you feeling about Alan?

*Please remember to click that little heart button if you’ve made it this far just to let the world know that somebody is reading!

Buy me some Ale!

Father and son rode slowly through the steaming summer of the King’s Meadow. Phillip wondered if he should have scheduled this ride after breakfast instead of after lunch. The heat had chased the birds into the forest. It was almost too hot to talk.

Surprised at the invitation for the ride, Jack could only wait for whatever unpleasant topic of conversation his father had brought along. So far, only Adwen and Montbury made noise. Jack couldn’t take it any longer. He glanced at his father preoccupied with his thoughts, who caught his look. “Race?” he challenged.

Phillip grinned, kicking Adwen into an immediate gallop. Jack lowered his head over Monty and leaned hard into his horse. Phillip and Adwen easily beat them to the edge of the forest.

“You know that Adwen cannot be beat. Is Monty getting too old for the race?”

Jack jumped off his horse to feed him an apple. “What is it you need to tell me, Father?”

Phillip leaned forward in his saddle. “I ride in the morning with Arthur and a party of guards to meet with Alan to discuss the alliance he proposed in the letter.” He paused, watching for a reaction. Receiving nothing but a dark head bent to his horse, Phillip added, “You will remain here to keep watch over your brother and the queen.”

“A babysitter is not a job fit for a future king.” He turned Monty’s reins and walked towards the castle.

Phillip dismounted and followed Jack’s angry stride. “Arthur and I must go and form this alliance. It will be an uneasy truce, but one that will save many lives.”

“A trick. It is a trick. Alan is a greedy king who wants all or nothing.”

“And how do you know so much about Alan of Blaekhurst?”

Jack stopped to frown at his father. “Not because you told me.”

“George?”

“He thought it important that I know my life had been threatened.” Jack turned his back, and the two walked in silence for a moment. Phillip prayed for cloud cover as he stared at the back of his son stomping through the tall grass.

“It is the job of a ruler to make peace. To protect his people.”

“It is the job of kings and future kings to do what is best for everyone,” Jack looked over his shoulder. “I haven’t forgotten.”

Phillip jumped on his horse, “But it is a man’s job to protect his family. Do this for me, Jack, while I try to obey rule one.”

Jack mounted his horse, turning to stare at his father, “I am not a nurse.”

“And you are not a man or a king yet.”

“If you do not return home alive, I will train young Arthur. And together the two of us will cause a reign of terror on Blaekhurst enough to make King Alan curse the day he was born.” Jack kicked Monty’s sides and took off at a gallop.

Phillip watched his son ride away. There is quite a bit of George left in this world. He kicked Adwen into a full gallop to catch Monty again.

Phillip leaned against the bedpost watching his little family. Young Arthur cooed at his mother, swinging his arms wildly. He finally struck her cheek and laughed. Margaret and the nurse laughed at the young prince, encouraging the sweet baby noises. Phillip smiled, “He is happy today.”

“He is happy most days, m’lord.” Margaret offered Arthur to him. “You come at an opportune moment. He’s clean, full, and ready for an audience with his father.”

Phillip held the baby close, breathing in his sweetness. As he slowly walked through the room, he stared at this youngest prince. The wispy red hair and rosy fat cheeks made him smile. Little fingers and toes that constantly moved told Phillip all he needed to know about this child. He was healthy, and he would be a busy, busy boy. Perhaps, most of all, Phillip loved that Arthur’s eyes remained fixed on his face as if the baby searched for secrets. Beautiful green eyes. Margaret’s eyes, Phillip thought.

He wanted memories of this child’s infancy. And felt guilty because he had no such memories of Jack. He sighed and turned to Margaret, who was watching him as well. He handed the child to the nurse, who curtsied and left the room.

“You’ve come to say goodbye.”

“Your father has been here?”

“Jack. He assumed I already knew.”

Phillip looked at the floor, “I apologize.”

“He comes to see me daily. He will take proper care of us during your absence.”

“I had no idea.” Phillip stood against the fireplace, thinking through his ride with Jack this morning and wondering when the boy had made time to come to see Margaret. “We leave early in the morning with escorts for both routes of the trip. We will be safe. And we will return with an alliance and peace.”

“I will pray for your safety, Phillip.” Margaret stepped out of bed, taking great care to cross the room until she stood in front of him.

“You are not well enough to be out of bed. I insist that you return.”

“I am well enough for many things, m’lord,” she whispered, taking his hand. “And I shall not return to my bed alone.”

Horrified, tempted, he watched her close her eyes and turn her face to his for an expected kiss. He gently moved her hair away from her face to kiss her lightly. But this would only lead to one thing. He dropped her hand, “Goodbye, Margaret.”

She followed him to the door, resting against the bedpost. “Explain this to me.”

Phillip took a deep breath. He wanted to confide his fears about her health to her. He had avoided her touch since his conversation with the doctor. But she was so young. And he was about to leave her on a dangerous mission. He turned to face her, “I have a long journey ahead. There are preparations to be made.”

“Very well,” she crossed the room and took his hand again. “And will you be returning to my bed after this journey?”

In his search for words, he paused too long. Margaret let go of his hand, turning away from him for a moment. Phillip thought perhaps she was crying. “You will not be able to get an annulment. I will never agree to it. And my father will most certainly make you wish you had never returned to Blaekhurst for her.”

When she turned to face him, her face was not wet with tears but had become red with anger. “Catherine of Blaekhurst. The reputed beauty. You still love the woman who caused years of devastation and war for Derbyshire.”

Shocked, Phillip ransacked his mind for how to answer these charges. He stared as she clung to the bedpost, shaking. He finally said, “Go back to bed, Margaret.”

She crossed the room to stand under his nose, “The woman who caused the murder of your brother.” Her voice got louder, “And yet you still pine for her like a little boy.”

“I barely knew Catherine. You are my wife. The woman I married.” He would have to tell her the truth. But not before this journey.

“For no other reason than to produce a second in the line.” Her tears came, but before choking on them, she managed, “Is it Jacqueline that you think of when you are with me? A dead infant bride?”

Phillip had never wanted to strike anyone more than he did at this moment. “Are you so confident, Margaret, that you feel safe in speaking to me in this fashion?”

“I care little for your threats. You are my husband in this room, not my king.”

“Then perhaps I should not return to this room.” He jerked open the door and left. He could hear Margaret sobbing as he marched down the hall and the door eased shut.

Jack watched as the party rode away from the castle. His father would return. Of that he was sure. What happened next could not be predicted.

Noises interrupted his vigil. He listened for a moment before realizing the noises could be coming from the nursery down the hall. He grabbed his longsword and eased out of his room to the nursery, finding the door open. He watched as servants lifted the cradle and carried it out of the room down the hall.

Margaret stood in the middle of the room, holding the sleeping baby. “Return to bed, sire. This does not concern you.”

“Is there something wrong, Margaret?”

“I am moving Arthur to my chambers. I intend to care for him there.”

“Until Father returns?”

The last of the furnishings and servants disappeared through the door. Margaret followed but stopped in the doorway. She hesitated before shakily announcing, “In the future, I suggest that you call me by my proper title.”

She watched the teen in his nightgown with his sword by his side. A tear slipped down her cheek, but she stood her ground.

“Very well, m’lady.” Jack offered, with a clumsy bow. She brushed past him into the hall.

The next morning Jack stood outside Margaret’s room. A maid opened and quickly shut the door.

She curtsied to the prince. “I’m sorry, m’lord. The queen is not well today and asks that you take breakfast without her.”

“I should like to see my brother before I go.”

The maid looked down at the floor. “I am to tell you that the little prince sleeps.”

She curtsied again, slipping into the bedroom. As the door clicked shut, Arthur made his presence loudly known.

Jack hoped his father would return soon.

Notes:

* I love the world of Derbyshire - even when the characters don’t get along.

*I spent many hours on the Medieval Britain website studying weapons and castles. I’m also following several amazing history writers on Substack because I so very badly want you all to feel you are in that old world of Cinderella. - even though she hasn’t shown up yet!

*As always, thanks for reading. If you’re feeling generous, consider buying me some chocolate. As long as I buy M&Ms, the snacking doesn’t slow down the writing!

Buy me some chocolate

Arthur drummed his fingers together as he watched Phillip pace the floor, reading the letter he had given him. He had not known this young king, this son-in-law, long enough to know what his facial reactions meant. But the letter should have drawn some emotion other than just pacing.

Phillip finished the letter and continued to pace. He took a deep breath before turning to Arthur. Calmly, he asked, “Why did you wait until after the meeting to share this request with me?”

“The letter came to me after breakfast. I thought about it carefully and felt that you and I should discuss it before bringing the idea to your council. We have the sworn duty to protect the people of Rothby and Derbyshire, so these decisions must be made by the two of us and not by the group of complaining nobles on your council.”

Phillip crossed the room to thrust the letter in Arthur’s face. “These men of Derbyshire have fought battles and lost property and people to Blaekhurst – a country that does not touch your borders and has never given you trouble. You had no right to withhold this invitation from me or from them.”

Arthur stood, “As king of Rothby and elder statesman of this alliance, it is my right to do as I see fit.” He paused, drawing in his breath. “Perhaps you might postpone your indignation at the request and consider our response to it. I promised the messenger an answer before dinner. He has a long return ride to Blaekhurst.”

Phillip turned to watch Arthur cross the room. “Did you not wonder why Alan sent you the letter, Arthur? He knew you would react this way. He knew that you would insist that we agree to this meeting.”

“Be that as it may, we need to answer his request to discuss an alliance. It will put an end to the skirmishes in the North and resolve the question of war. If you choose not to attend the meeting, I will go alone or perhaps with some of the more friendly members of your council.”

Phillip moved quickly to stand nose-to-nose with Arthur. “You dare to threaten me? What happened to the strong alliance because of the child? Have you not considered how Margaret would feel about this?”

Arthur sighed. “My boy, Margaret’s child will be ruler of Rothby one day. And Margaret will always follow my instructions.”

“Make no mistake. Margaret is my wife, mother of my child, and Queen of Derbyshire. Never doubt that she is fully capable of managing her own thoughts and actions. Independent of any man.”

Arthur chuckled. “Well. She married you at my behest. Let’s consider that an indication of her level of independence.’

The door whooshed open, almost knocking Arthur forward. The nurse curtsied to both men before excitedly turning to Phillip, “The queen believes it is time for the baby and wishes an audience with you immediately.” She curtsied quickly and turned to rush back to her mistress.

Phillip turned to Arthur, “I will charge my servants with keeping our council comfortable tonight. The messenger is welcome to stay in one of the rooms here in the castle. Feel free to make those arrangements. I must see my wife now.”

Grinning, Phillip left the room to find a steward as quickly as possible so that he could spend the rest of the day worrying only about his Margaret.

It had been a very long night. Phillip leaned his head against the window of the nursery, waiting for the sun to rise. He flinched with every muffled scream from the room down the hall, and his mind reluctantly returned to Jacqueline. He whipped his head around as the door opened. Jack.

Jack crossed the room to stand next to his father and stare out the window. After a moment, he asked, “Did Mother scream as well?”

Phillip turned to stare at his son. Jack had not taken his eyes off the window. Phillip took in his son’s firm stance, hands tightly clasped behind his back. He’d avoided having this graphic conversation with Jack. He’s too young, Phillip thought. I won’t do this.

“I know what you’re thinking, Father. But I have a right to know the story of my mother’s death as much as I deserved to know the story of my birth.” He paused. “And Uncle George is not here to tell me.”

“You are but fourteen, boy. Much too young to be making demands of the King. No matter how much battle training you have taken, some stories of blood and death are not meant for the ears of children.”

Another faint scream reached their ears during the uncomfortable silence. Jack turned to face his father and found an unusual look on Phillip’s face. I’ve caused him pain. I should have never started this.

“I’m sorry, Father. I thought discussing this story would help us banish the lingering ghosts and secrets between us.”

In another month, he will reach my nose in height. In another six months, he will sit higher in his saddle than I. Phillip sighed and moved to the chair next to the cradle.

Tired, Phillip leaned against the cushion, closing his eyes. He had hoped for joy today. But perhaps the boy was right.

He opened his eyes, finding Jack had not moved. “You know, men are not invited during the birth. It seems to me that we were there at the beginning and so should be allowed at the end as well.” He offered Jack a weak smile. George would have laughed.

“Your mother had been in pain for almost three days. In the beginning, she did scream, but the screams weakened on the second afternoon. I waited outside her room hoping for news. Late that evening, one of the attendants rushed out and returned with the doctor. The room had been quiet for quite some time.”

Jack sat down at the foot of the bed, holding onto the post closest to him. He waited until his father could step out of the past and finish his story.

“The attendant returned and told me that Jacqueline wanted to see me. I thought that she would be holding our beautiful daughter.”

“Daughter?” Jack laughed.

“George and I entered the room to find her near death. You had not been born yet, but the bedcovers and floor held the bloody evidence that she had certainly tried to give you life.”

Phillip swallowed. He had never told this story aloud. The nightmares had been enough. He continued. “The doctor told me that the only way would be to have the midwife push you out. Each push released more blood, so I made them stop. I could not have her die from this assault.”

Jack wiped his eyes. This was nowhere near the story he had imagined.

“She was near death, moaning for me. Her last words were ‘Remember me.’ I was so angry. In so much pain. I told the doctor to get ready. I lunged at her belly with all the strength and anger inside, eventually pushing you out. You were born. And she was gone. You know the rest.”

“Yes,” Jack said as he stood, “I know the rest. Except why you thought I would be a daughter.”

Is it time, Phillip wondered. He motioned for Jack to return to his seat.

“Your mother had nightmares before you were born. A series of nightmares, you might say. Without much belief in them, I agreed to honor her wishes regarding those nightmares.”

“And what were those wishes?”

“You must understand how young she was and how frightened. She had many sleepless nights in her last three months of confinement, and when she slept, she had the same torturous dream. She finally told me one night that she knew we would have a son and that she would not live to see his face. In my youth, I decided you would be a daughter and told her so. I had hoped that it would alleviate her fears.”

Phillip stood and placed his hands on Jack’s shoulders. The boy was visibly shaken. Another scream reached their ears, so Phillip knew he must hold the rest of the story for another day. “Are you well, boy?” Jack nodded. Phillip dropped his hands and turned to move through the door.

Jack’s raised voice stopped him. “There’s more to the story, isn’t there, Father? Why are you afraid to tell me?”

Phillip’s face frozen in stone, whirled to stare at Jack. “I find it ironic that just yesterday you defended me against others who called me a coward only to accuse me of it yourself.” Phillip took a deep breath to calm his voice. “You will find a letter on my desk from Alan to Rothby, requesting our presence to discuss an alliance. Please read it now so that we can discuss it soon. I am going to Margaret and will find you after the birth.”

Jack watched Phillip stalk from the room. There was more to the story, but he doubted that he would ever know the rest.

Phillip stood in the corner of the room, watching the flurry of activity around the bed. One final, drawn out scream punctuated the room. He held his breath and closed his eyes for a brief prayer.

A weaker cry opened his eyes to find the doctor passing a fat, squealing infant to the nurse. “A boy, sire. A healthy prince to grace the kingdom,” he announced.

Covered in sweat and exhaustion, Margaret laughed aloud. Phillip moved quickly to her side, taking her hand. They watched the nurse clean and swaddle the infant. Margaret turned to Phillip. Staring into his eyes, she asked, “What do you think of Phillip George?”

“George would have loved such an honor. But I think Arthur George suits him better.” Phillip smiled as the baby began to cry even louder. “He looks a great deal like your father.”

Margaret raised Phillip’s hand to kiss it. “A perfect name, thank you. What a lovely gift.”

“He is,” Phillip whispered as he bent to kiss her. But when he opened his eyes, Margaret’s were closed. She had fainted.

Phillip stared in shock for a moment before whirling to the doctor. Their eyes met briefly. The doctor remarked, “Perhaps you should step out,” before returning to his patient.

Buy me a Sweet Tea

Phillip stood at the window in his office. The beautiful morning of sun and breeze only angered him. How could God do this to him? Again. In shame, he lowered his head to pray for Margaret and this new George that he would rather not lose.

Jack fidgeted in his chair. He had no desire to talk to Arthur, who looked like he was asleep, and could not bring himself to encourage his father. The fear and tension in the room only convinced him that he would rather not ever become a father. Of course, as future king, he knew that he would be expected to marry and produce heirs. It felt unlikely.

Phillip turned as the door opened and the doctor entered. Arthur and Jack both stood, and the doctor hesitated as he noticed Jack.

“Speak freely,” Phillip said.

The doctor cleared his throat before saying, “The queen lives. She is weak but will recover.”

“And the child?” Arthur asked.

The doctor smiled, “Already developing an affection for his wet nurse.”

Embarrassed, Jack looked at the floor before remembering to ask, “Can we see them?”

The doctor nodded his head, “Of course.”

Phillip clapped Jack on the back, “Let’s go meet your brother.”

The doctor watched as they moved toward the door, finally gathering his courage. “Sire, may I have a word?” Phillip returned to stand in front of the doctor, arms folded. Taking a deep breath, the doctor said, “She survives this child. She will not survive the next.”

“Are you positive of this?” Phillip gasped.

“As much as I can be, yes.”

“Is there any way to prevent such an outcome?”

The doctor hesitated, again. “Only one that I know of.”

Phillip returned to the window to stare at the sunny meadow. “Go. And do not breathe a word of this news to anyone.”

The doctor bowed and left. Phillip wondered how there could be such light outside when there seemed to be only darkness in his world.

Author’s notes:

No notes this week because this was a hefty chapter - the longest ever, in fact. If you’ve reached this part of the newsletter, thank you for sticking with me! I would love to know what you think.

Phillip and Jack walked quickly down the hall. As they neared the doors, Phillip put his arm out to stop Jack. He paused for a moment. “You will remember what I’ve said?”

Jack nodded. “Of course.”

“These are important men. Powerful men. Angry men.”

“I won’t forget. I promise.”

The doors opened to a quiet room with men that Jack did not know. Some sat at the table while others spoke in small groups. Jack moved to sit in the chair next to his father’s chair as he watched the men greet their king.

A regal silver-haired gentleman noticed Jack and smiled. He walked over, and Jack stood to bow to him. The man smiled and glanced around the room. He leaned forward to whisper, “I bow to you, young prince.” Jack had made a mistake already.

The man bowed to Jack and asked, “Do you remember me then?”

Jack nodded. “I would not forget you, Lord Montbury.”

Montbury smiled. “It is easier perhaps because you have a horse with my name.”

Jack wanted to laugh but caught the look from his father. He liked Montbury already. The nobleman felt like a grandfather. Or an uncle.

Montbury motioned at the chair next to Jack, and they both sat. He watched the young prince nervously survey the room. He could not understand why Phillip believed it was time to bring a child to a war council meeting, especially during an unsettled time in Derbyshire’s history. This young boy could not possibly absorb the many political factions of the countries and the demands for alliances. He felt sorry for Jack.

Jack watched the men in the room. Seven of the ten councilors were present for the meeting, plus King Arthur of Rothby. He wondered why the others were missing. He was also trying to guess the names of the men in the room. Based on the descriptions he’d been given by his father, only two of them were easily recognizable. Montbury, sitting quietly to his right, and Helmsley, the heavily bearded, heavily waisted gentleman sitting at the end of the table, eating a large turkey leg.

Montbury noticed Jack watching Helmsley make short work of the turkey leg. He tapped Jack’s arm and pointed to the table laden with food. “If the meeting goes long, Lord Helmsley will empty yon table. He rarely speaks at these meetings, but he does eat throughout the discussion.”

Jack stifled a laugh, trying to nod seriously. “Would you mind, sir, telling me about these men? Father gave me some description, but I don’t think it was enough.”

“What did your father tell you?”

“Hair color. Approximate height and weight. Whether they were married and had children. What he thought their opinions would be today.”

Montbury chuckled. “Well, my boy, I can see why you could not identify most of our party today. You know Helmsley now. Let’s see.” Montbury looked around the room deciding which would be the most important person to introduce in the time they had.

“Take a look at the three men standing by the window talking. Any guesses?”

Jack nodded. “I believe the man in the middle is Lord Derrin.”

“Yes, well done. The red hair might have been given him away.”

“That and his height. Father said he would be the shortest man in the room.”

“Yes, short on height but not short on temper. Derrin lives on the borders of both Blaekhurst and Summerston and has lost property more than any other man on the council. He argues for all-out war at every council meeting.”

“Can he back that up?”

“No. Smallest possible contribution to any army will come from Derrin. Perhaps it is one of the reasons he is so angry and pleads so passionately to the rest of the council.”

Jack nods. “What about Helmsley? Does he favor war?”

“Helmsley will support your father, but he would much rather be left alone.”

Helmsley stood and went to the table. He returned with a plate containing a rather large pie. Jack started to feel hungry.

“The man talking to your father is Langsford. He lives close to the sea in south Derbyshire, so his fortress is heavily protected. He has lost the least and feels the least threatened. But he would fight a war against Blaekhurst if asked because he has suffered at their hands. His younger brother rode with George on that last journey for peace.”

Jack stared at Montbury, “Did he return?”

Montbury solemnly shook his head.

Jack would have liked to be able to listen to that conversation. His father’s face was set in stone, a look that Jack was familiar with. Best he continue his conversation with Montbury.

“They are divided so far. How do you feel about war, sir?”

The men moved to take their places at the table. Montbury leaned forward, “Watch and listen and I will share more details about the council after we end the meeting. Perhaps you can take me to see my namesake.” Jack smiled. As Phillip took his seat next to Jack, all the lords bowed to Jack and Phillip. All except one.

Jack took a bite of his pie. Three trips to the food table had been necessary to keep him awake during this meeting. His father had asked each man to share damage or battle reports from their area of Derbyshire. So far, Montbury, Langford, Goodwin, Kendrick, and Aldrich had spoken of relative quiet in their parts of the country. No battles and few issues of property damage seemed very mild reports for a council of war. He had hoped to learn something from this meeting, but boredom and a decent food table won the day. At least he could say now that he understood why Helmsley continued to eat.

Phillip shifted his weight, listening to Rothby speak about the guaranteed peace that currently existed. The council respected the eldest member of their group, his father-in-law, but Phillip knew that most of the men were not listening. He doubted Jack was paying attention and wondered if Montbury was asleep.

“… and Rothby will be ready to fight if needed, but we have a harvest to consider before pulling our men off to war. Of course, with the new child uniting Rothby and Derbyshire, our alliance will remain strong. I feel we need yet another attempt at peace with Blaekhurst before considering an alliance with any one of the other countries. If we were to decide today, my thoughts would be to send a message to Alan and commit Derbyshire as an ally to Blaekhurst. Once Blaekhurst is pledged to us, the other two countries will fall in line. Our safety lies in peace among all countries,” Rothby ended with a smile.

Phillip checked the faces of the other men. Most seemed relieved that Rothby had finished speaking, not caring about his thoughts or opinions. Of course, Derrin and Langford, the two who had not spoken yet (except for Helmsley, who rarely spoke), had listened carefully to Rothby. Derrin’s face showed his disagreement with Rothby’s speech. Langford’s face showed nothing at all.

Derrin looked around the table and said, “None of you know anything.”

Jack looked up from his pie. Lord Derrin’s statement had been spoken quietly, but it might as well have been shouted. All eyes were on the red-haired lord. Jack stole a glance at his father’s face and saw only stone. Perhaps he would learn something from this council after all.

Without moving, Phillip said, “Continue, Lord Derrin.”

Derrin stood to glare at the men seated around the table. “The Blaekhurst king pays to send murderers and thieves to our territories daily. We lose crops and bits of our herds to these villains. Many of our vassals have been attacked. Some seriously injured. My wife and child dare not leave our home because we are watched by his soldiers and mercenaries. I came to this council under the cover of night accompanied by many men prepared to sacrifice their lives if followed.” He stopped for a minute, trying to catch his breath.

Langford leaned forward to speak. “Why has no man at this table asked for the whereabouts of the other three members of the council?”

Derrin chimed in, “Many of my soldiers tell me that Alan has been working to build a strong alliance with Lakeland and Summerston. These bloodthirsty leaders want nothing more than to take the fertile, rich lands of Derbyshire and Rothby. The last report I had makes me believe they plan a full war soon. Why do we wait?”

Langford stood. “Because we are led by cowards. By men who forget the price that Alan of Blaekhurst has already extracted from this country. By men who bury their dead and forget to seek the peace of revenge.”

Jack could not believe the accusation. Langford crossed his arms, waiting for Phillip to speak. Before he knew what had happened, Jack stood and pointed his finger at Langford. “You will not stand at the King’s table and accuse him of this. My father fights to save all of Derbyshire, not just your pitiful realms. If you are only worried about yourselves, go home and tend to your cows and your crops.”

Langford glared at Jack and muttered, “Boy, be careful what you say.”

Jack looked around the table. Shaken and avoiding his father’s eyes, he said, “Uncle George believed in keeping all of Derbyshire safe through peaceful agreements. He would have your throat if he heard your words.” He paused and added, “And that’s Prince Jacques to you. I am boy to no man.”

Jack moved to leave the table but was stopped by Montbury’s arm and a slight shake of his head. He returned to his chair as the room erupted in loud, shouting arguments. Suddenly, Helmsley pounded his massive fist on the table repeatedly until the men quietened.

Helmsley turned toward Langford and cleared his throat, “Where are the other three?”

“We don’t know. But they live in manors that border Blaekhurst. Their absence should tell us all we need to know.”

Phillip needed time to think through this council. He rose. “It is late. Arthur and I need to discuss the information gathered here tonight. We will meet again tomorrow for breakfast to make our decision.”

Phillip left the room followed closely by Jack. As they cleared the doors, Phillip whirled to his son. “What were you thinking?”

Jack looked around to be sure that they had not been followed. “I apologize for not following your instructions. But if you expect me to allow any man to belittle my king, you misjudge me. If they insult you, they insult Derbyshire. And that is tyranny. Uncle George would have answered those insults by drawing blood. In five years’ time, I will do the same.”

With his heart pounding, Jack moved past his father. He decided to go work with his crossbow. He firmly believed that he would need all the practice he could get. Apparently, he had learned something from this council after all.

Author’s notes:

1. Goodness. For a rough draft chapter, this took longer than I thought. Please forgive any possible typos. I’m too tired to read through this again.

2. I started a spreadsheet that helps me see all the characters - their relationships, their geography, their quirks. With luck, I won’t confuse a Langford with a Derrin.

3. Most of my problems with the novel so far happen when I need to be medieval. I am by no means an expert on the Middle Ages, so trying to build a world that should very much resemble that time period means research. I stumble over the language and terminology a bit, which is frustrating. But I eventually remind myself that this novel is a rough draft.

4. This is the longest chapter I’ve posted. Too much? I appreciate any thoughts you may have.

5. Just a reminder - Each chapter is the first version of a chapter in the novel. These are the chapters that no real writer would allow readers to see, so this is very much an experiment.

Jack sopped his bread, shoving it in his mouth. He loved this porridge soaked in ale so much, but it was too messy to eat in front of ladies. He crammed the last bite in his mouth as Margaret entered the dining hall. He wiped his mouth quickly and stood until she arrived at her seat and curtsied. He bowed, and they took their seats.

They sat together. Margaret began to nibble on bread and fruit as Jack started eating a greasy venison steak. Recently he had been trying to find a way to share his secret with Margaret. His father was too busy, and she was the closest to him in age. He also thought she might be a little bored and would like to help him solve the mystery.

Jack swallowed his last bite of venison and slowly sipped his milk. He stared at Margaret for a minute. She had barely touched her food. Perhaps this morning would be a good time to talk to her.

“Margaret,” he cleared his throat, “It is a beautiful morning for a ride. Would you care to go with me? I would like to take Monty through the meadow to the forest and back.”

She put her nibbled bread back on her plate and smiled at him. He always thought she had such a pretty smile. He wondered if father thought that as well.

“Fresh air would do me good this morning, young prince. Your father should be here in a moment, and I will check with him to see if I am needed at the castle. Or perhaps he might ride with us.”

He doubted his father would leave their throne room most of the day. He was surprised that he would even come to breakfast. He knew that Phillip took very little time for himself as he spent most days involved in the war and in the general business of Derbyshire. Jack smiled at her, thinking she did not know his father as well as he had hoped.

Phillip entered the hall. As he reached his seat at the head of the table, he bowed to Jack and to Margaret before taking his seat. Jack noticed that his father and Margaret had smiled at each other until he took his seat, and he thought Margaret continued to smile under her napkin. It was an unusual start to their meal.

Before he had a chance to discuss the morning ride with his father, Margaret spoke. “Phillip, Jack has graciously asked me to go for a morning ride with him. We thought perhaps you might like some time outside as well.”

Phillip set his knife across his plate, chewing his bread slowly. The smile had vanished, but Jack did not understand why. He watched his father’s eyes stare at Margaret until she raised her head, blushing at his intent observation.

Holding her gaze, Phillip asked, “Do you think that wise, m’lady?”

“I see no harm in it, m’lord. I should enjoy the fresh air as well as the pleasure of the prince’s company.”

Phillip returned to his breakfast. Margaret looked down at her hands. Even at twelve, Jack noticed the uncomfortable silence between them.

Wiping his hands, Phillip said, “I think the ride is a poor choice for this morning’s activities. Perhaps a walk in the garden would suit you both.”

Margaret did not lift her head, and Jack thought he saw tear drops.

“Father, I will sit her on Monty. He is a gentle soul now and perfect for the queen.”

Phillip reached for Margaret’s hand and tipped her chin up to meet his eyes. “Margaret, as future king, Jacques must always know of anything that affects Derbyshire. Do you understand?” She nodded, casting a shy smile at Jack.

“Margaret is with child, Jack. You are to have a brother. Or sister.”

A brother or sister changed many things for Jack, for his father, and for Derbyshire. But Jack only thought one thing. He asked, “Might we name him George?”

Phillip threw his head back and laughed.

Phillip and Jack watched as the workers removed the last pieces of court furniture from his room. “Perhaps you should move to another room more suited for you,” Phillip said.

Jack looked around at his bed, chair, wardrobe, and tables with his books and candles. The empty room depressed him, reminding him how alone he felt. Perhaps a new room would be best. And then he looked out the window which looked out on the meadow and forest.

The green light had not returned since his morning in the forest. Jack had the feeling that if he left the room, the light would never return. He must stay.

He shook his head at his father. “Very well,” Phillip said. “Now. Let’s talk about your new schedule.”

Jack sat on the edge of his bed. He had not expected additional changes. Phillip took a breath. “You will take your uncle’s place as my first advisor in court. Beginning tomorrow. In addition, you will sit on the council of war and take part in every meeting. I will not expect you to take a very active role at first. You will be there as my second eyes and ears. Your chief role will be to report to me anything you think relevant.”

He paused for a moment. “Do you understand?”

Jack swallowed, “Yes, Father. Does this mean I will ride with the council for battle?”

“No, my boy. You are nowhere near ready for that. However, you will be spending some time in the hours before breakfast and court training. You may be needed for battle. But I will not allow you to take the field until I feel you’re ready. Understand?”

Jack nodded again. His hours from breakfast to dinner were no longer his own. He would like to learn his father’s role, but he felt very drawn to the forest and the green light. He would find time.

His father crossed the room and put his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “You’ve done very well following Rule numbers one and two. More importantly, you have proven the doctors wrong. You have a better appetite and more strength than men twice you age. Once your training catches up to your ability, you will begin riding the countryside with patrols.”

“Do you have a timeframe in mind?” Jack asked.

“After the baby is born. We must make sure of the line of succession. Right now, our concern the healthy birth of my second in line. I want the northern countries to realize that we are establishing a dynasty that will never let Derbyshire go to one of their greedy rulers. We prefer peace, but we will not hesitate to address a threat.”

“Uncle George would be proud.”

“It was his idea.” His father patted him on the back and left the room.

Notes:

• Just in case you are new, this is my experiment of rewriting my screenplay to a novel rough draft as a weekly serial. I’ve noticed many rough draft mistakes the week after posting, so if you find something off kilter, please let me know.

• The screenplay is copyrighted, which should cover the novel.

• I have not used AI for this work. The idea for the initial screenplay came to me about ten years ago. So this is all me - typos and all.

  Thanks for reading! This post is public so feel free to share or restack to let your friends know that we are writing the truth about Cinderella!

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Jack dismounted and tied Monty loosely to the tree closest to him. He pulled a carrot from his pocket to share with the horse. The sun had not begun to rise yet, so the meadow was lit with the tiniest sliver of moonlight, making the forest look darker than ever. The dark only concerned him when the green light disappeared.

He had watched the light for weeks but had found no pattern. With little but war to think about, the origin of the light became an obsession. He knew that finding the secret of the light meant he would have to be in the forest while the light pulsed. And so began his mission. Jack would wake before sunrise. When there was no green light, he would toss and turn until time to eat breakfast with his father and Margaret. If the light beamed at all, he would dress and run to the stables.

Fearful at first, Jack had grown used to the dark in his pre-dawn rides. After making an agreement with the stable boy, Jack rode Monty on the green light days, heedless of poor weather and possible discovery. Any fears he had or should have had yielded to the desire to understand the green light. But each attempt left him standing at the forest’s edge waiting in vain for the green light to signal his entry.

Until today. Jack watched the pale green light materialize from the forest, shining on his hand and Monty’s muzzle as his horse finished the carrot. Jack quickly wiped his hands across his pants, checking for his knife securely tucked in his belt. He took a deep breath and stepped into the forest.

The forest smelled of flowers and trees and dirt. Jack breathed it in as if it were a Christmas pudding, rather enjoying the clean smells that entered his lungs. He creeped forward, listening to the crackle of the leaves and occasional snap of a broken twig underfoot. He heard some movement other than his own but decided it must be small animals or birds. The green light distorted his view, so he could not see the evidence of these animals. But he did not see anything larger either, which comforted him.

Until the light disappeared.

Jack stopped moving. No light from the dark sky found its way into the forest. Unsure if he could retrace his steps out of the forest, he simply stood and prayed for the green light to return. He felt his pulse pounding. At least he hoped it was his own heartbeat in his ears. Somehow, he heard water. Rushing water. And a second heartbeat started to pound. Panic came quickly, and he closed his eyes.

Breathe he thought. Don’t move. Light will come.

The sounds suddenly ceased. Jack cautiously opened one eye, noticing the pale green light returning. Ignoring potential danger, he turned and rushed through twigs and mud. He fell and wondered if he had gone in the wrong direction. Monty’s whinny assured him that he was close to the edge of the forest. Standing slowly, he moved towards the sound of his horse.

As soon as he broke through the dense foliage, Jack snatched Monty’s reins from the tree limb and jumped on his back. He urged the horse into a full gallop headed home. But he continually looked over his shoulder at the forest for the light.

As he rode towards the sunrise, his only thought was how grateful he was to have returned to one heartbeat.

Author’s notes:

This chapter was originally much longer, but the next scene really belonged in the same chapter with the scene after that…so I separated them.

I also hope that this chapter seems more suspenseful if it is just Jack and Monty and the green light.

At this point, Jack is about fourteen. He and his father see each other only during the meetings with the war council or court days. Margaret occasionally rides through the meadow with him or walks through the garden. He believes he has aged past their games of Fox and Geese.

For the most part, Jack is a lonely boy. But life is about to change here on Walton Mountain.

See you next week.

Jack tossed and turned in his cold bed. The fire was barely moving, and he knew what that meant. He moaned. He just wanted to sleep.

Since George’s death and the ongoing war, the servants were always engaged elsewhere. This chore of tending the fire had fallen on him, often waking him during the colder nights. During the first winter when he had realized that no one was coming to his aid, the shock on his feet at crossing the cold stone floor caused him to wear his boots to bed. He had initially wondered what his father would think if he found him asleep in his bed wearing boots. After a year of sleeping alone, he abandoned this fear.

Wrapping himself in his thick blanket, Jack jumped from the bed and hurried to the wood pile for a few smaller logs to add to his fire. He sat carefully on the floor, tending the fire.

He should be tired. It had been a long, difficult day. His father had met with several nobles and small farmers, none of whom were happy with the progress of the war. They wanted vengeance for the damage that Blaekhurst inflicted daily. Jack had listened to their voices grow louder throughout the day. Insistent. Desperate. Angry. He had also witnessed his father’s calm.

Calm was the only emotion he had seen on his father since George had been lost and war declared. He had not heard a laugh or seen a smile in the year since his return. More worrisome was that Phillip had also not cried or been sad since his return. Once he had gathered his courage, Jack had asked Margaret if his father had ever been anything but calm in her presence. They compared notes when Jack was available, and she continued to confirm that there had been nothing but the eerie calm.

Jack wasn’t tired, but he realized that the fire had grown enough to ensure warmth until morning. In one long move, he stood, stretched, and turned around to make the move towards his bed.

But he stopped when he noticed the pale green light above the forest shining through his window.

Margaret did not want to fall asleep.

She burrowed under the blankets that she had placed in front of the roaring fire in her room. It had taken quite a while to build this comfortable bed on the stone floor, but she loved the heat and the smell of the fire up close. She wondered what the servants might have thought with her continued requests for blankets and pillows and privacy.

Because, of course, she hoped a visit from Phillip would happen. Six nights had passed without a call to her bed, which was unusual considering the frequency of the visits over the last year of their marriage.

But the war had dragged them into nights of brief visits and days of hurried meals and little conversation. Even Jack had been absent from her life as he followed his father’s lead, investing his time listening to nobles and soldiers and farmers. She was lonelier than at any time in her life and wished for more human contact than curtsies from servants.

She prayed he would arrive soon. She planned to coax conversation from him somehow. They had much to discuss, but she had never been brave enough to ask questions or talk to him about Derbyshire or George or Jack. They had been married over a year. It was time she became a wife outside of her bedroom.

Margaret stared at the door, wishing it would open. She had been so tired lately and felt sleep approaching fast.

Sleep had eluded Phillip for weeks, so he did the only thing that had helped. He poured another glass of wine.

He needed help but had nowhere to turn. Margaret and Jack were too young to offer valuable council. Arthur was hours away and not interested in contributing to the war effort. Phillip’s war council wanted increased action but lacked a willingness to participate in battles. And George only haunted his thoughts. Laughing for the most part.

Everything in his life had spiraled into failure after George’s death. His late nights caused him to sleep alone in the hope that Jack would get the rest he needed to remain healthy. He missed those moments with his son.

The time spent on the war effort had kept him from getting to know Margaret. They needed time together to build a partnership. Instead, they only had a few moments together late at night. And even this had been unsuccessful because there was no child on the way. Phillip drank his wine in secret, and on particularly difficult days resulting in heavy wine nights, he had decided to forego visits to his young bride. While the wine provided only a few hours of sleep, it was better than having no sleep at all. For now, sleep for the king of Derbyshire took precedence over another heir.

Ah, George. Why is it that your face always comes to me when I think about Margaret?

Phillip shook his head and sipped his wine.

Or Catherine?

Catherine’s memory was an unwelcome intrusion in his desire to defeat Blaekhurst. He imagined her beautiful and happy. If she had children, would she raise them to hate the children of Derbyshire? Her father would certainly encourage that. It angered him to think that their short friendship had been destroyed by one greedy man.

Phillip drained his wine glass. He looked at his bed and shivered. The cold linens would be miserable, and he had no interest in resurrecting the fire in his room. But morning would arrive soon, and he needed to rest. He sighed.

Margaret’s bed might be warm.

Notes:

1. Part of me thinks that I should have brought in some minor characters for Phillip’s war council and written a chapter with anger and fear. It might have been good to do this and further develop Jack’s character. But I wanted to show how the war was affecting the main characters.

2. My feet are freezing right now. Somehow I blame Derbyshire.

   Buy me some warm milk!

   As always, thanks for reading and commenting.

The king and his queen lay motionless in bed.

Phillip stared at the stone ceiling above him as he listened to the fire crackling and the light breathing next to him. He wanted to leave this uncomfortable moment behind him and return to his own room where his thoughts could wander as they deemed fit.

Perhaps he had rushed into this marriage bed. Derbyshire’s war with Blaekhurst should have taken precedence. He should be meeting with nobles and soldiers and villagers to protect his country. George had given his life for this cause.

George.

Phillip closed his eyes to try to black out the vision of the remnants of battle his party had seen. Dead men littered across the banks of a small stream, cut down by knives, swords, and arrows. Many of George’s party were slaughtered, some missing arms or legs. It had been impossible to bring many of these men home because horses had also been killed. The horses of the three missing party members had been stripped of their equipment and lay bloodied on the field. Including George’s.

Somewhat further upstream, pieces of blood-stained clothing belonging to the missing men had been found clinging to branches. After finding severed hands and fingers upstream, they could only guess that the men had been murdered, cut into pieces, and thrown into the water. Perhaps this struck the cruelest blow. The missing men would not receive Christian burial. For that alone, Phillip vowed to destroy Blaekhurst. It was his duty.

As was this moment in time. With George gone, Phillip needed to ensure the throne of Derbyshire with another heir. Jack seemed healthy. There had been no fainting spells in the last two years. His appetite and growth were normal, and he was certainly an active boy. Jack would become an excellent king regardless of Jacqueline’s prophecy.

Jacqueline.

Phillip’s mind hovered on her face and beauty and their love for a moment before the guilt attacked him. He quietly cleared his throat before asking, “Are you well, Margaret?”

At the sound of his voice, Margaret jolted before whispering “Yes, m’lord.”

Phillip smiled. Eighteen perhaps, but she was still a child. “I think you should call me Phillip now.”

The vision of George’s horse flashed across his mind. He needed to leave as soon as possible. Rule number one nagged at him, so he said, “I hope that you are not in any pain.”

She shook her head in the dark and replied, “No, m’lord. Phillip.”

He paused, trying to think of something to offer in conversation to this new wife. “Jack says you play games with him. That’s nice of you.”

Phillip thought he heard a brief sniffle. He would not be able to exit on this remark. Margaret quietly said, “He has been my only friend.”

Damn rule number one. “My apologies,” he said. “Perhaps we should have a ball to introduce you to some of the ladies of Derbyshire. Your wedding was a disappointment, I’m sure.”

Margaret turned to face him and firmly said, “A ball would be a mistake at this time.”

Slowly, Phillip turned to see her watching him. He tried smiling and offered, “Don’t all queens love balls and dancing?”

“We are at war. And we have just lost a much-beloved prince. We must allow time for Derbyshire to mourn.”

She was not a child, he thought. He raised her pale hand from the sheet, gently kissing it in thanks. “Wise words from such a young queen.”

She smiled at him and watched as he quickly dressed and moved towards the door. He turned to say good night and saw her eyes lit by firelight. After a brief hesitation, he returned to the bed to place a kiss on her forehead.

“Good night, Margaret,” he said before leaving the room.

As the heavy door closed, Margaret moved over to the pillow and bed sheets still warm from her husband. She hoped he would think of her tonight as he slept.

But she would be cautious about what she wished for.

Notes:

1. In the beginning of the plotting, Margaret was to be a minor character with no real interests or character arc. I think Phillip needs a wife who did not begin as a beautiful love interest. We will see how it goes.

2. This chapter felt more difficult to write than the last few. Would love to know what you think. As always, please feel free to leave a heart or a comment!

Phillip rode into the courtyard alone.

He and Monty wearily made their way to the stable. Albert carefully avoided Phillip’s eyes as he stepped up to take the horse once Phillip dismounted. Adwen neighed loudly, so Phillip slowly made his way to his favorite horse, burying his face in Adwen’s white mane.

Phillip did not wish to ever leave this animal. He knew that his next steps would be into the castle, through the halls and rooms, and finally into the throne room he had shared with Jack. He deeply dreaded this walk.

Jack pulled a robe over his legs. Sleep had not come easily the last few weeks, and Jack had taken to curling up in his father’s chair with a pillow and one of the hunting robes that covered their bed. The chair dwarfed him and made him uncomfortable, but Jack felt closer to his father in it.

Three weeks had gone by since his father had left. Jack spent his days with the new queen. They ate most of their meals together and played Fox and Geese when the weather kept them indoors. But Jack’s favorite moments with her took place outside. She loved the stables and horses, so they had taken many rides together. They had walked several times in the castle gardens, where she had gathered flowers for the graves of his mother and grandparents. She could shoot a crossbow better than him, which had irritated him at first. But they laughed a great deal at their competitions. He had never had a friend before, except possibly for Albert, so their time together provided something for him to look forward to.

His nights had been much different. Unable to sleep, Jack moved between the windows searching for signs that his father’s party had returned. When not watching for his father, Jack would turn to the other window, hoping for the green light of the forest to flash at him. It had always soothed him, this light, but it had not appeared since his father had left. Jack wanted to mention it to Margaret several times. Since no one else had ever discussed it, he thought it best to keep that secret to himself.

Jack snuggled deep under the robe, finally feeling sleepy. Closing his eyes, he went through his bedtime ritual.

He imagined the sound of recognizable footsteps in the hall. He listened for the creak of the opening door. He pictured the dull sliver of light that would come once the door opened. His father would stand above him to watch him sleep, and his familiar breathing patterns would comfort Jack and remind him of their many nights together. He would sleep then.

But the ritual wasn’t successful.

Jack sat up, listening carefully. No footsteps. No creak followed by light. The door remained shut.

But there was breathing. Familiar breathing.

Jack waited as long as he could, a moment or two perhaps, before he ran to the door, hoping to find his father. But there was nothing.

“Over here, boy,” came the voice he longed to hear.

Jack cracked open the door, letting in some light for the room. He turned and found his father sitting slumped over in the throne. Watching him.

Jack ran to his father, jumping into his arms. When Phillip finally loosened his hold, Jack leaned back to stare at his father’s wet face and waited.

Phillip gathered his son close to him. He could not face him with this news, “Lost. All lost,”

“Are you sure?” Jack whispered.

“I cannot talk about it, boy. There was …” Phillip’s voice broke, “…evidence.” The weight of the announcement crushed him. Lowering Jack to the floor, Phillip stumbled to the bed and fell in.

Jack followed him. He stood by his father. Uncle George was gone. He took his father’s hand to ask, “So we are at war with Blaekhurst?”

He sighed, “Yes, boy. We are at war. But we will slaughter them with Rothsby as our ally. You need have no fear.”

Jack waited for a moment before reaching out to gently turn his father’s face so that he might see the truth in his eyes.

“Is Catherine in danger?”

Surprised, Phillip shook his head. “Catherine has wed Albert of Summerston. She lives far away from Blaekhurst and safe.”

With his father’s full attention, Jack asked the one question he needed an answer to the most, “Did you marry Margaret to ensure the alliance of Rothsby?”

Phillip reached out and pulled his son to the old resting spot under his arm. Jack had grown up in just the time he was gone. Still too thin, but taller and somehow braver. Instead of curling up against him, Jack sat up.

“Father. Did you?”

Sighing, “Yes. Marriage for kings often occurs for these reasons. We’ve discussed this, Jack.”

Jack wrinkled his nose at the rebuke and spoke anyway, “She’s nice.”

Startled, Phillip waited for more.

Jack yawned as he tapped his father’s hand slowly before adding, “We played games and had meals together. She was lonely. I tried to follow rule number one.”

Phillip stroked the hair of the drowsy boy. “Perhaps I should have done the same.”

The sleeping Margaret rolled to her side in bed. Half awake, her eyes suddenly widened as a hand clamped down over her mouth. The darkness of the room hides the identity of her assailant.

Phillip leaned forward to whisper in her ear, “Be still. It is only your husband.” He released his hold of her mouth and leaned back against the bedpost cradling a small candle.

She snatched the blankets to pull them up to her chin. “You have returned safely. I congratulate you.”

Standing, he leaned over her shoulder, placing the candle on the nightstand by the bed. He seemed to tower over her, so he softened his voice. “I hardly think congratulations are in order, but I have arrived safely.”

Taking in his disheveled look and the weariness in his eyes, she felt that he could not have been home long. He had not even bathed. She pulled the bedclothes even closer. She glanced up at him, “I am glad.”

He returned to the end of the bed, resting his head once again on the bedpost. “I come to apologize, Margaret. I have not treated you with the duty due your station as my wife and the daughter of a king.”

She bowed her head, “Thank you, m’lord.”

Phillip hesitated, trying to find the courage for the next moment. “As you are aware, Jack is of questionable health.” He watched her young face for a response. She finally made a face that at least let him know she was listening. He stood to gather his strength and turned away from her, knowing he would break at any reaction.

Phillip walked to the fireplace and tossed on a log. After prodding it to fire, he tried “My brother…” before his voice caught and prevented him from speaking. Steadying his hand and voice, he carefully stated, “Prince George is dead.”

A sharp gasp escapes before Margaret manages to cover her mouth. Her slipped sheet is gathered quickly before the king turns his head from the fire. “M’lord. I am so sorry.”

He turned to her. She looked beautiful in the shadow the fire cast, her hair almost the same color as the flames he had just built. Phillip thought he saw a tear slip from her eye, and he softened. He quickly crossed the room, watching her shrink as far into the bed as possible. He brushed the hair from her face before cupping her chin and turning her face to his. “Tomorrow night, I will return to you as husband. Do you understand?”

Phillip stared into her eyes looking for fear or anger and saw neither. She nodded and looked away. He touched her face gently before bowing and taking his leave.

As he shut the door and turned down the hall towards Jack’s room, Phillip could not help but shake his head. Somewhere George is smiling.

Jack watched the green light from the forest. His father had returned him to his room with very little explanation after the wedding ceremony. Jack thought it odd that his father had only patted his head and said goodnight before leaving. Hours had passed with no sleep, so he simply watched the pale green light flicker through the top of the forest.

It would be dawn soon. Father and breakfast would arrive, so Jack thought it would be best to at least look like he had slept. Reaching behind him to grab his pillow, he noticed movement from the window above the courtyard. He jumped off the bed and watched as thirty or more men and horses arrived. Albert escorted a horse that looked suspiciously like Monty into the group, and Phillip mounted the horse. The group turned to ride from the castle.

Hurriedly slipping on his boots, Jack eased out of his door and down the hall. He wasn’t sure where he was going. He knew there was no possible way to catch up with his father, especially since he had taken his favorite ride. Perhaps he could reach the stables and find Albert. He didn’t think Albert would tell him anything, but he had to try.

As he passed through the halls, he stopped to listen to an unusual sound. At one of the bedroom doors, he thought he heard weeping. He stood and listened for a moment, unsure of how to react. Before he could move away and continue his search for Albert, the door opened, and Jack looked up into the tear-stained face of his new stepmother, Margaret. She shrieked, recovered, and curtsied. Jack bowed, and Margaret turned to leave.

Without thinking, Jack asked, “Why are you crying?”

Margaret turned to face the little prince. “I am far from home.”

He wondered why someone would leave home to marry a stranger and then spend the night crying. “Are you lonely?”

Margaret leaned against the door, trying not to sob.

Jack realized that she could not answer his question. He had to do something. “Father has been teaching me Fox and Geese. Do you know it?”

Sniffling, she looked at him from the corner of her eye. “I do,” she replied.

Jack folded his hands behind his back and looked at the floor. “We could have a game tomorrow. If you aren’t busy. With Father.”

“Your father and a party of men have left the castle. They will not return tomorrow.”

Slowly, Jack raised his head to stare into her eyes. He had not expected Margaret to have any information. “Where did they ride?”

Jack watched her contemplate her answer. Even though she was only five or six years older than him, her face had the look he had seen on most of the adults he had known. She had information she was not sure she should share. He prayed she would answer him honestly. For some reason, Jack wanted to be her friend.

“They have gone to search for your uncle and the rest of his party. They are long overdue, and there are rumors of an attack.” She paused, “I am sorry to tell you this news.”

Jack nodded. “We can play after breakfast if you’re awake. If Father returns, I will understand if you must quit the game.” He offered her his hand to shake. Margaret took his hand with a tiny smile. Jack bowed and turned to walk back to his room.

Margaret watched the retreating prince. His thin frame and messy black hair made her sad. “I have not seen the king since our wedding, little man. I think our game is safe.” She entered her room, quietly shutting the door.

Notes:

• This small piece of a chapter had originally been planned as part of the previous chapter, Margaret of Rothby. But I felt that it would - A - be too long and - B - needed to be separate so that I could begin developing her relationships to both Jack and Phillip.

• Please consider leaving a heart to let me know that you read this chapter. The hearts and comments encourage me to write every day. This novel needs an everyday session because there is so much story to tell!

• I am sorry that the chapters are not arriving on schedule. As I add characters and plots, the writing slows down a bit so that I can be sure to include the necessary details.

• Do you love the new “logo” for the story? Sandra’s painting makes me so happy. There are so many things in the painting that will be woven into this version - I hope her work makes you happy, too.

Phillip firmly believed he might never enjoy food again.

The subdued diners in the banquet hall did their best to consume the meats and breads and game pies that had been delivered. Phillip had two choices. He could force himself to eat, which meant his eyes would remain cast downward to his plate. Or he could avoid the dinner that was making him ill, forcing him to make conversation with King Arthur of Rothby on his left or Princess Margaret of Rothby on his right.

He picked up his knife, slicing a chunk of venison to gnaw on.

Phillip raised his goblet for wine to wash away the venison. Arthur immediately grabbed his own chalice and returned what he thought was a salute. Phillip nodded at this guest, quietly returning his goblet to the table. George would have loved that.

Damn George. Late as always.

Phillip noticed the pale face of the princess, her very still hands, and her untouched food.

Her red hair covered enough of her bowed head that Phillip hoped she was simply in prayer. But he could almost feel the fear coming from her body. He had not spoken to this princess since her arrival. Unlike Catherine, he had not welcomed this person in his life. Margaret and Arthur were only the means to an end, and this action felt different somehow in comparison to the proposed match of two years earlier. He glanced at her again.

She’s but a child.

Irritated with himself, Phillip tried to think of something to say. He gently cleared his throat. “Is the food not to your liking, Princess?”

Without lifting her head, she murmured, “No, m’lord.”

“My apologies. What can I have brought for you?” he asked.

She hurriedly looked at him. “Nothing,Sire. I am sure the food is fine, but I do not wish to eat.” She paused, pointedly looking at Phillip’s untouched plate of food. “I am sure you understand.”

Their eyes locked. She was not afraid. She was angry. Her steady gaze made him uncomfortable. Both Jacqueline and Catherine had come to this role willingly – Jacqueline out of love. Catherine out of duty. Suddenly, the long span of time between the initial proposal and the arrival of the Rothby party made sense. Margaret had not agreed to come to Derbyshire. She had been forced to make this trip. She was Rothby’s unfortunate sacrifice.

Margaret returned her eyes to her lap. Phillip searched for a kind reply as the silence between them stretched on. He looked out at the dining hall and watched as the door opened, and a dusty traveler made his way to the dais.

Phillip turned to Arthur, “If you’ll excuse me.” Arthur nodded and continued to eat. Phillip spun in his chair to excuse himself to Margaret. Surprised, he found her staring at him. He nodded at her, stood, and left the table. The traveler noticed Phillip’s departure from the dais and followed him. Margaret’s eyes lingered on Phillip until he was out of sight.

Phillip and the messenger entered the room outside the dining hall. Phillip dismissed the maid inside the room who had been pouring fresh chalices of wine to serve. She curtsied and left. Phillip motioned to the messenger to grab a drink and closed the doors while the man gulped his chalice empty.

Slowly setting down the cup, the messenger bowed to his king. “He says not to wait, Sire.”

Phillip nodded and waited for a moment, trying to find the courage for the next question. “Are they alive?”

“Yes, Sire. When I left, all were alive. The prince had some concerns about the duration of that situation.”

“Go on.”

“We fought off several small attacks trying to reach King Alan’s castle. The prince feels that something bigger is planned. He believes that the party would never be allowed to reach the King with our proposal. He asks for reinforcement.”

“So they’re not returning home?”

“No, Sire. They’ve gone ahead through the Old King’s Road.”

Phillip shakes his head. Only George would choose the most dangerous way to remain hidden. Stubborn.

“How long since your departure?”

“Not quite two days. I have ridden as hard as my horse allowed.” The messenger paused. “Sire, the prince asked me to deliver a message. He says …” the messenger clears his throat. “He says to bring a less noticeable horse.”

Trying not to smile, Phillip opened the door. He beckoned for a servant and turned to the messenger. “You need food and rest. We will ride as soon as possible.” The messenger bowed and followed the servant from the room.

Phillip grabbed one of the full chalices and drank it quickly. He needed courage to gather a force, finalize arrangements with a king, marry a child, and leave his son. He threw the chalice across the room. He also needed time. Something his brother and his party did not have to give him.

Phillip and Margaret stood in front of the priest. He noticed that she shivered and wondered if it was the cold chapel or the thought of marrying him that made her shake. A confused Jack stood beside his father, and King Arthur supported his daughter on her available side. Phillip could not think of a less appealing way to start a life with a new wife.

The priest had been told that time was of the essence. The wedding promise was kept short. Raising his hands, the priest quietly stated, “For as much as Phillip and Margaret have consented to holy wedlock, and have witnessed to God almighty their intention, I pronounce that they be man and wife. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

Phillip turned to Margaret and placed a brotherly kiss on her cheek. Taking her hand, they left the church, followed by Jack and Arthur. He dared not look at her face in case she was crying. That would be too much to add to his unhappy stomach. He would make this up to her somehow. If he lived.

Notes

I’m struggling finding writing time these days. Returning to work part-time plus some personal health struggles has made it difficult to devote time to Phillip, George, and Jack. Hopefully, the next chapter will not be as late as this. If you are still reading these rough draft installments, thank you so much! Comments and hearts are so welcome and probably necessary to keep me on track.

Next week, the map will disappear. My dear friend and artist, Sandra Harvey, has given me permission to use a painting as my Cinderella logo (not sure that’s the word I want to use). She donated this painting to a charity auction years ago for an organization supporting Down’s Syndrome. I was the lucky bidder. I hope you love it as much as I do.

Jack’s eyes opened to an empty bed.

No father.

He could not remember the last time he had been woken by his father’s calm snoring. He knew that something had happened last year with Catherine, but he had only been told that she had left to find her king. He had since noticed many quiet conversations between his father and uncle. Conversations that ceased when they noticed him paying attention. He gradually slept more nights alone in his bed than with his father.

Jack believed that these changes in his father had nothing to do with rule one. They still had crossbow adventures every week, and Jack had managed to kill his first rabbit just this year. His father had presented him with a knife fit for a king, which he carried with him everywhere, and taught him how to skin the rabbit. They still had most of their meals together. Jack’s presence was still required for court. And they rode their horses most every day. But somehow, these duties had changed. His father’s silence prevented him from asking questions, and Jack became afraid that rule two had returned.

A maid entered with his breakfast of bread and meat and his favorite spiced milk. The castle seemed eerily quiet. Jack bit off a chunk of bread and chewed, swallowing it with a gulp of his milk. Taking his bread, he walked to the window, unsure of what this day would bring. He stared out at the glorious morning in the King’s Meadow. Noticing what looked like rider dust in the distance, he threw the last bite of bread in his mouth and quickly began to dress. He knew he needed to be outside.

Dragging his crossbow behind him, Jack stomped as fast as possible to the stables. Albert and the other stable hands worked to prepare several horses. He did not see Monty or Adwen. Their horses were not the only thing missing.

Where is Father?

As Albert saddled one of the horses, he glanced over at the prince. “You’re up early. Have you eaten breakfast?”

Jack scowled. He was in no mood for another nurse. “I couldn’t sleep. Father’s gone somewhere.”

Albert nodded toward the stable. “I reckon they have business to discuss.”

Jack stared in the direction of Albert’s nod, spotting his uncle and father. “What about?” he asked.

Albert shook his head firmly. “Not my place, boy.”

Jack threw down his crossbow and stared at the men and the horses. He had been left out of this decision. His father and uncle emerged from the stable with grim faces. Jack noticed that both men wore riding cloaks. He swallowed a lump of fear.

Jack stared up at his father. “Where are our horses?”

Phillip’s eyes softened. “We will not ride today, boy.”

The riders Jack had seen were entering the courtyard. He watched the men as he asked his father, “Is this about rule number one?”

Phillip nodded. “It is very much about rule number one. But I’m afraid it’s more about rule number two.”

Albert led the newly saddled horse to them, and Jack realized it was meant for his Uncle George. “Are you leaving with those men, Uncle?”

George crouched before him, his eyes warm and smiling, “Don’t be afraid. Your father stays with you, little man. I make this ride.”

“I’m not worried, Uncle.” Jack whispered.

George ruffled his nephew’s hair. “Good. Someone must be here to welcome the Princess Margaret.”

Phillip frowned. “You will have returned by then. And I do wish you would stop talking about it.”

George grinned, winking at Jack after he had mounted his horse. “Perhaps my return will be delayed. Princess Catherine may desire an audience.”

Phillip walked up to his horse and handed George the scroll. “Exercise caution,” he said quietly.

George gave an exaggerated bow from the saddle. “Don’t marry until I return. You know how I love the cake.” George’s laughter could be heard as he turned to gallop towards the waiting riders. Father and son watched the retreating riders until they were out of sight. Phillip turned toward the castle, leaving Jack alone with Albert.

“Who is Princess Margaret?” Jack asked.

Albert sighed. “Not my place, boy.”

Jack snatched up the cross bow and waited as Albert set up the targets. Angry, he fired his first three shots into the ground. Taking a deep breath, his next three shots went straight into the middle of the target stationed further away. Albert clapped him on the shoulder, “Well done! Your father will be so proud.”

“Father has to be here to be proud of things.” Jack walked away, picking up his bows for what became the longest few hours of crossbow work out he had ever had. Phillip did not return.

Jack ate lunch at the table in his room alone. His earlier anger had been replaced by hunger and more than a little fear. He had very few memories of time spent without his father. But he did know that there had been those early years where his father had mourned his wife, abandoning his only child. Jack worried those times had returned.

Jack had no idea what he might accomplish this afternoon without his father. He did not want to stay in his room with books or lessons.

Monty.

No matter what was happening, he knew that riding his favorite horse would make him feel better. He grabbed an apple from the table for Monty and a chunk of bread for himself, he quietly left the room. For the first time, he was going riding. Alone.

Fortunately, Albert had been away from the stables when Jack arrived. He bullied one of the younger stable boys into saddling Monty for him. He had not wanted to admit that he could not saddle the horse, so he acted like a spoiled prince and demanded his horse be saddled at once. It did work, but Jack felt somewhat guilty. His father would be ashamed when he found out.

Riding across the meadow, Jack thought it would only be a matter of time before someone spotted him from the castle. He believed his father would rush in anger to grab him off the horse as he had done years ago. But so far, his ride had been free of dramatic rescues and company. He was completely alone.

As Jack rode towards the forest at the edge of the King’s Meadow, he thought he might go in to hunt for a bit. He had not been missed yet, so he thought he had time. He jumped off of Monty and handed him his apple. He walked around munching on the bread he had brought for himself.

No animals anywhere, he thought. He walked a little further into the woods until he found a lake surrounded by laurel trees. Staring into the water, Jack wanted to plunge into the lake and float. It all looked so peaceful. But he had not learned how to swim yet, so he turned and left the forest. He had been away from home long enough.

As he exited the forest, he found his father on his white steed waiting for him. They fell into a comfortable step back to the castle. Phillip broke the silence, “King Alan of Blaekhurst chooses to send men to forcibly take lands from us in the northern part of Derbyshire. George rides to offer peace instead of war.” Jack turned to his father, who continues, “The price of a man’s life cannot be measured against the weight of dirt. We must strike the best bargain.”

“I understand, father.” Jack replied. “But I thought Catherine was the solution to war with Derbyshire.”

Phillip took a deep breath, “I am sorry that I did not consult with you on the decision. There are some things that kings must do that they would rather not. I do not wish to give up the land that Alan wants; however, I also do not wish to wage a war that our people are unprepared for. Do you agree?”

“I do. But I still don’t understand what happened with Catherine.”

Phillp grabs Monty’s reins to stop him. “We had knowledge that Alan would not allow you to be king if Catherine and I had other children. Your life was in danger.”

Jack stared at his father for a moment and then took his hand. Looking into his eyes, he asked, “Who is Princess Margaret?”

Phillip smiled at Jack and their ride continued.

A flashing light from the window wakens Jacques. He climbs out of bed, crosses to the window, and watches as the pale green light shoots up into the sky from the forest.

Buy me a sweet tea!

Notes: This is a big day in Jack’s life. He realizes the severity of the problem with Alan of Blaekhurst. He has also ventured into a new world that will take him some time to figure out.

This is now the first time we must venture out into other characters world’s and brains. Yes, the story still belongs to Phillip, but Jack must be heard from as he gets older.

We might have a new opening picture next week! If it works out, I will share the details and picture next week. If it doesn’t, well, I will tell you as much of the story as I can.

For now fingers crossed! I would love to see hearts showing you were hear to read my little novel. Thank you, so much.

Phillip rubbed his eyes and stared at the paper in front of him. It would accomplish nothing, he was sure.

He needed to sleep. In the year since Catherine’s departure, Phillip’s troubles kept him awake most nights, so he had taken to leaving Jack asleep in his bed. The boy needed his rest, so Jack had celebrated his ninth birthday, learning to sleep alone. Phillip watched his son eat and play and sleep as he hoped all children in Derbyshire would do. Jack would soon reach his tenth birthday, but he had not grown enough. So Phillip worried about the health of the prince and heir to the kingdom.

The negotiation of Phillip’s marriage to Margaret of Rothby stalled several times. Phillip and George suspected competing offers of land and wealth to Rothby from Blaekhurst, Lakeland, or Summerston. Rothby bordered the ocean, and its citizens would protect that resource to the death. Although a small country with few riches, Rothby possessed a wise ruler in King Arthur. Phillip knew that Arthur would accept the offer that benefited his country the most. For a while, Phillip felt that being a young, unmarried king would no longer be a strong enough reason for an alliance. Arthur had finally agreed to Phillip’s last proposed agreement, and Margaret, her father, and several nobles from Rothby would arrive in Derbyshire within a month. While the acceptance of the agreement was welcome, Phillip could not erase the memory of Jacqueline. He worried about marriage to a woman he had never met and did not want to love.

Lakeland’s interest in Derbyshire could not be ignored. The large lakes which formed a border with Derbyshire provided healthy food and water sources for the many large farms in the northwest part of the country. Much of the land south of the lakes had been won by Derbyshire in a series of battles that had occurred during his father’s reign. Several of the more powerful nobles living in that region had been gifted their lands by his father for their loyal service. Lakeland’s King Edward produced a large, powerful family. In fact, Edward’s oldest son and heir, Frederic, had built a castle within a days ride of Derbyshire. An old man, Edward neared death, and a peaceful transition was not secured. Because Lakeland and Blaekhurst shared a border, Phillip worried about war with his northern neighbors.

Summerston’s eastern border measured half the length of Derbyshire. Its entire northern border measured more than half of Blaekhurt’s land. King Albert of Summerston knew quite well that he had an enviable position. His country had grown almost as fast as Derbyshire, his people were fiercely loyal to their king, and his reputation of courage on any type of battlefield made it difficult to oppose him. Ten years older than Phillip, Albert had remained unmarried. While he would never admit it to George, Phillip spent nights worried that Catherine would someday be queen of Summerston.

Since the annulment of the marriage agreement, the fragile peace between Blaekhurst and Derbyshire had unraveled. Small skirmishes led to open clashes with each encounter drawing more men from both sides. Blaekhurst’s bold siege of a small castle near the border had been most concerning. The defenders had held the castle, forcing the attackers to withdraw, but not before killing two of the landowner’s sons. The siege clearly demonstrated that Blaekhurst would be willing to carry the fight into Derbyshire. Phillip spent nights worried about bloodshed.

Phillip took another look at the document in front of him. Jack would return soon for bed, so Phillip wearily folded and sealed the proposed truce. George’s idea for the proposal seemed logical. It had been discussed with nobles and clerics. Phillip fretted over the language until he could almost not bear to read it again. In the truce, Derbyshire agreed to align with Blaekhurst to protect against any country who challenged its sovereignty.

And Phillip was sure that Alan would never agree to it.

Notes:

Before I launch into palace intrigue and war and magic, I needed to firmly build the world that Phillip finds himself in after Catherine. Nothing happens in this world in a speedy fashion, so this allows Jack to age as well.

The introductions to the other countries are necessary at this point because they begin to play a role in the lives of Phillip, George, Jack, and Catherine.

Knowing what is coming up in the next few chapters makes me happy for those who are still reading. I hope to surprise you.

Thanks to all who are reading, leaving hearts, and commenting on the story. Y’all keep me going!