Page 56 of Heart of Snow
Ilsa went to the trunk and pulled out the dress I’d planned to wear when meeting the queen. Though simply made, the deep blue was a perfect complement to my light features.
Ilsa laid the gown on the bed before unlacing the sleeves and bodice of my mud-splattered travel clothes. She cinched me into the new gown and reset the plaits of my hair with impressive speed, considering the nagging of Thieuloye’s impatient foot tapping against the tiled floor.
With the final pin in my hair, I faced the austere mistress. “I am ready.”
“You”—she pointed to Ilsa—“remain.”
Ilsa looked to me for understanding, and I motioned her to stay.
“Comtess, come with me.”
Giving Ilsa a nervous glance, I stepped into the hall, moving only a short distance to the center of the second floor, where we came upon a set of doors large enough that I suspected it was another dining hall. One of the two porters standing guard smiled at me, but I was focused on following Thieuloye into the room when she suddenly rounded on me.
“You will bow when you meet the queen, and keep your head lowered until she invites you to stand,” she whispered.
“These are the queen’s chambers?” I whispered back, but Thieuloye didn’t answer.
My stomach tightened as I crossed the room, anticipating a grandmotherly woman cushioned atop a sumptuous, canopied bed. I imagined her stroking an ugly lap dog while scores of ladies sat about, but I was wrong. Though the room was ornate, it did not seem to be a bedchamber at all. In the center sat a large wooden desk scattered with papers and broken quills and surrounded by several plush chairs. There were ladies in attendance, but only eleven. Nothing near the twenty-six I’d heard the English courts boasted. The older women sat in chairs while the younger ones, my fellow ladies-of-honor, were grouped to the right of the chamber entrance, singing a chanson to the accompaniment of a lute. The only piece that remained true to my imagination was the dog, though instead of one, there were two, and each was so massive that its back stood as tall as the arms of the queen’s chair. She petted one’s head as she listened to the music, never turning her eyes even a degree or two to see the people who’d just entered her chamber.
Thieuloye waited, unmoving, beside the chamber door until the ladies finished their singing and the older women applauded gently. We stepped forward, finally drawing the eye of Queen Mary, and I mimicked Thieuloye’s deep curtsy as the soft murmurs and rustling skirts indicated the ladies-of-honor were resuming their positions beside the queen.
“You may rise,” a deep voice spoke.
I straightened, facing the queen for the first time. Though she was older, her face was hard and masculine. She had a protruding jaw and large, heavy-lidded eyes that made her look fierce and tired all at the same time.
“Your Highness, I present to you Comtess Margaretha de Waldeck, daughter of Philip IV, Comte de Waldeck. She is your newest lady-of-honor.”
The queen stood and approached, her dogs shadowing her as she walked in a circle around me. “Very good,” she murmured. “The rumors of your beauty were not exaggerated.”
My cheeks warmed. “Je vous remercie, Votre Altesse.”
“Your accent is good. Do you speak only German and French?”
“Et Latine quoque,” I answered.
Her stern mouth softened into almost a smile, but she turned before I could see it, returning to her chair and stroking one hound’s head again when he plopped down beside her.
“I am aware of the personal cost of the Mühlberg battle for your family. Do not think you will find any sympathy for your brother’s plight in my courts. We do not tolerate Luther’s teachings here. Even owning his bible is a crime punishable by death. Do you understand?”
I hid my trembling fingers in my palms, reminding myself that her warnings were just as I expected. But I would not be deterred from saving Samuel. From fighting for my redemption. “Yes, Your Grace.”
The queen did not speak again. In the uncomfortable silence, only the pop of fabric sounded as the ladies-of-honor stabbed their needles into their sewing. I pretended to study the woodwork around the ceiling just to avoid the penetrating gaze of this forbidding woman. When she finally spoke again, it was with one side of her mouth raised into what I could only assume was a kind of smile.
“I’m grateful you have chosen to accept my invitation. You seem intelligent and well-mannered. Your beauty is quite extraordinary. I think we shall have no trouble finding you a husband. Perhaps one of our Netherlander noblemen will suit.”
Beside the queen, several of the younger ladies looked up from their needlework for the first time, scanning my clothes, my hair, and my face. A few narrowed their eyes and lifted their heads higher, studying me over raised noses.
Belinda had prepared me for their assessments. Fighting down my urge for harmony and humility, I straightened my shoulders to a perfect line and raised my chin, unflinchingly meeting each of their gazes. When I turned my attention back to the queen, I had my sweetest smile ready. “I want nothing more than to honor Your Highness with the gifts God has bestowed upon me, praying you may find my service ever valuable.”
I finished with a small curtsy, and when I stood, the queen’s mouth was curved upward, her eyes approving.
“Then let us proceed with the Oath of Allegiance.”
An older, elegant woman rose from her seat beside the queen. “Repeat what I say, inserting your name,” she instructed, then began to recite the oath.
“I, Comtess Margaretha de Waldeck,” I repeated, “do promise and swear, by God and His Holy Gospels, that to my rightful queen—Mary, by the Grace of God, Queen of Hungary and of Bohemia, governor of the Netherlands for His Imperial and Catholic Majesty, and his lieutenant—I always shall be true and faithful. I shall also with my life and blood agree to live in accordance with the fundamental laws of the realm, which I, in all their parts, shall obey and follow. This I pledge on my honor and conscience to do, so truly help me God to life and spirit.”
And so, I was bound.
