Kingdom of Suffering
Childhood
— Listen, the king's younger son is unmarried, and perhaps...
— I cannot wait to see if he becomes king over his older brother... They are all as healthy as oxes, the old king. It would take too long for them to die. So Della will never see the throne, which means we cannot influence our neighbor's politics, damn them...
— But if Della becomes the old king's daughter-in-law, wouldn't that mean he won't attack us, his relatives?
— No, you fool, that means nothing... The parents of a daughter-in-law... a younger daughter-in-law... who cares about that now... It means war again, and the country is weakened, ruined...
No, before that old fox Elias sniffs out our weakness, we must slip Della to him...— You speak of your own daughter as if she were a whore... God, poor girl... Elias is an old man!
The queen turned away, not wanting to show her husband a face devoid of adoration. Yes, she was the same age... And her husband was not young, and she was afraid.
The war had lasted so long that both states were weary of it; no one remembered its causes. Lands... Someone's violated honor... Mutual grievances... And finally, a faint hope of a weak peace dawned, which their daughter, young Della, was meant to secure. And peace was needed by both countries. Therefore, old Elias gladly seized the idea of becoming related to his recent enemies through a marriage alliance. Which was first considered between Della and one of his sons. But her stubborn husband was obsessed with the idea of uniting their countries, or rather, absorbing the southern neighbor. For this, he intended to marry Della off to no less than the old, sturdy, eternal, like the mountains of his homeland, Elias. Poor Della!... How would she get along with the old monster!?
— And when Della bears a son, and she will definitely bear a son, and not just one, she will become regent for him. The old man, of course, will have died by then... And then she will marry one of her relatives... They will swear vassal allegiance... My sons will finally be rid of the eternal threat from the south, those unwashed savages...
— But our daughter... so young... and Elias is so... — the queen faltered, realizing all her words were useless. Her husband looked at her heavily:
— She will have to bear children for her husband, and more than once. Have you prepared her?
The queen nodded wearily. No one cared about the fate of women in this harsh male world, full of blood and tears. No one had pitied her once, also married off as a girl for the sake of peace to a middle-aged widower. And she bore his children until boys came, and her cruel husband also looked at her with suspicion, wondering whether to divorce her, who had brought two first daughters. And now Della, her firstborn...
A fragile, fair-haired girl thoughtfully circled the throne room, where her mother found her.
— I know everything, mother, — in response to the queen's heavy sigh, — I heard...
— Eavesdropped, — she stated quietly. — And what about you?..
— But it's necessary, right? I'll be sent there anyway?
Her mother nodded, watching with bitterness as her daughter walked slowly through the hall, as if saying goodbye to the majestic, rough interiors.
— If it's necessary... Only... only I'm afraid...
The huge king critically examined the thin teenage girl bowing before his throne. He read confusion in her eyes. A smirk hid in his thick beard; with a nod of his head, he dismissed the bride. After signing numerous treaties, including a truce between the warring parties, a swift wedding was scheduled.
At the lavish wedding, sturdy Elias occasionally glanced mockingly at the girl-wife trying to maintain her dignity. She showed no obvious fear, holding herself unnaturally straight.
The queen-mother looked at her daughter for the last time in the dim glow of candles in Elias's royal bedroom. Elegant as a figurine, with lush hair, trying to feign indifference on her pale little face... Her mother adjusted the transparent nightgown that had slipped from her motionless thin shoulder.
— It's beautiful here... Southerners know how, everything is so elegant... Yes... Della, my girl... You... — the queen clearly lacked the courage to leave her daughter here alone.
— Don't, mother, don't worry. I can... I will try. I remember everything you told me. So, you leave tomorrow?..
— Yes, those are your husband's conditions. He doesn't get along with dad...
— Go, mother, until tomorrow... Don't leave without saying goodbye to me!
Leaving, the queen passed the half-drunk Elias, escorted to the bedroom by courtiers.
The bed creaked heavily under the weighty king. Pulling the blanket up to her neck, not turning her head and barely breathing, Della waited, trying to suppress her trembling. Time passed...
— Listen, girl... Della. Can you keep secrets? — wine fumes filled the space between the spouses. She was silent.
— Your father wanted this marriage. As a guarantee of peace... Since it has happened, we must live somehow. And we can come to an agreement. So that everything remains as before for me... And not so bad for you... I don't want to hurt you. I don't need a wife — but I'm telling only you...
Della was afraid to breathe, so incredible were the things her old, newly-made husband was saying. She was not in danger... She was not going to be raped... Or forced to bear children... He had already had several wives... The last one, beloved, died long ago... She, Della, was the same age as his son, and the king did not want her... Not anyone anymore... And if they agreed and kept it all secret, their life together would be pleasant for both. He would take care of her. And she of him. Like a daughter or something like that... Well, isn't she against it?..
The girl hastily nodded and whispered "yes." After a pause, she rustled:
— And what should I do?
— Carry yourself as a queen. You should manage, I saw how hard you tried at the wedding.
— I... was afraid, — she admitted.
— And I saw that too. Now you're not afraid?
— Now... no. Probably...
— Probably... — he laughed, again enveloping her in wine fumes. — Let's sleep!
The queen-mother peered searchingly at the young queen-daughter in the morning. She seemed unchanged from the previous night. The same calm little face, straight back. The unnatural tension seemed to have left her — so it seemed to the old queen. And there seemed to be no fear on her face. Only embarrassment from the increased attention of the courtiers, from the indecent whispers around — in the morning, all the nobility examined the marital bed with drops of blood. The father boredly lectured his daughter about her duty to the Homeland, about future sons, about obedience to her husband. The queen, however, hugged her daughter tightly.
— You don't seem afraid of your husband? Huh?
— Everything will be fine, mother. Don't cry for me!
At the farewell dinner in honor of Della's departing father, Della examined her stepsons — the king's sons. Thibault — about 27, stocky like his father, red-faced from yesterday's drinking, thick-lipped, with small, wary eyes. Son from the king's first wife, whom he divorced to marry for love. Next to him was his wife, unattractive, thin, and haughty. A boy about her age — Robbie, son from the last wife, who died several years ago. Lanky, wiry, fair-haired, like her. Occasionally cast curious glances at his father's new wife. The king cheerfully teased his sons, only the elder answered roughly, the younger remained silent.
After the king-father's departure, Della felt incomparably freer. She only missed her mother and sister.
— Embroidery — is that all you want to do? — about a week into their "marital" life, Elias inquired. Della shrugged, not understanding what else a queen could do.
— What did you do at home?
— A little... Studied and played with my sister, rode horses, shot a bow, swam, hunted... That's about all.
— Shot a bow? Swam? In your cold rivers? — the husband doubted.
— My people are warriors. And the women! — she said, raising her head. He laughed.
The next day, she entered the classroom where an elderly court tutor was hammering the basics of science into the tousled heads of noble boys. Several teenagers turned to her and waited silently, then stood up. The girl took a deep breath:
— I'll stay here... May I? — and without waiting for the teacher's answer, she sat on the bench behind Robbie. Coming to his senses, the teacher continued the interrupted lesson. The boys, after hesitating, sat down.
A group of young nobility watched ironically as a tame, specially selected horse was brought for the young queen. Smiles slid from their faces when she mounted without help and with a familiar movement placed her feet in the stirrups, tightened the reins. She patted the horse's neck matter-of-factly and froze in the saddle, waiting for the instructor's signal. Robbie rode up and positioned himself next to her on a restless horse. In response to her questioning look, he explained gloomily:
— I'll ride with you. Just in case. Father ordered...
She opened her mouth but remained silent. Della rode better than many, for which she received praise from the instructor. On the next ride, she paired up with Robbie herself.
— His Majesty the King, my husband, has allowed me to be called by name and use 'you', — she addressed the boy. He nodded without looking at her.
Within a month, they became friends. In boy's clothing, the young queen was indistinguishable from the group of teenagers from the country's best families. She settled into the court school and did not yield to the young men, surpassing everyone in studies. She fenced desperately, rode a fast steed dashingly, having rejected the sleepy horse, and shot accurately. The ever-present Robbie was always nearby, keeping an eye on her. They made a contrasting pair: a daring, laughter-loving girl and a taciturn, phlegmatic, lanky boy. She was the ringleader among the kids, he her faithful squire. Only he was allowed to call her by name, and only she was allowed to laugh at him. She managed to draw out all his simple teenage secrets from him. They could often be seen on the edge of the palace park, sitting on the rocky top of a hill.
The old king watched with admiration the young queen, who turned out to be so cheerful, and treated her like a daughter. Della sincerely loved her husband and was grateful to him for everything. The king spoiled his young wife, allowing her to organize all sorts of events, be it balls, palace plays, carnivals, picnics, tournaments, and races. Old nobles grumbled discontentedly about Della's activities to banish boredom from the palace, while the king looked favorably upon all his wife's undertakings.
— It's time to forget about war, — he repeated. — Let them have fun! Anything is better than fighting.
And the court youth entertained themselves wholeheartedly. In the evening in bed, Della enthusiastically laid out new plans before her tired husband; he listened wearily, kissed her forehead, and allowed everything.
— Ah, I don't have a daughter like that! — Elias repeated with regret. — Robbie has little fire, and Thibault... Ah!..
— You have me, and I love you! — the queen reassured him.
The girl gratefully hugged the old king, pecked his cheek, and fell asleep, having learned to ignore his snoring and often the smell of wine. They carefully kept their secret, giving no reason to doubt their marriage.
Youth
Several years passed. Robbie was sent to study at a university in another country, many miles from home. Della wandered restlessly for several days from longing. She abandoned her amusements and wandered gloomily through the royal castle, touching furniture, walls, and not lingering anywhere. She had begun to realize her love for Robbie long ago, but definitely felt it only now, before the separation. Elias stopped in the doorway of the chambers, studying his wife, who was looking indifferently out the window.
— Someone is sitting on your hill, on the stones, — he said. — Don't you want to go there?
— What for? It will all be over soon... — without turning around.
— You need to say goodbye! Don't punish the boy, he looks miserable, — the king grumbled. — Go!
The girl slowly climbed the hill and sat down next to her friend. No longer children, they thoughtfully looked into the distance, where Robbie was supposed to go. A sturdy, tall youth barely touched the slender, fair-haired beauty with his elbow. In childhood, having raced to the top and first fallen silent, they would start talking, discussing news, events, books, horses, laughing at Thibault and his quarrelsome wife. Today, before parting, they didn't feel like talking. Della sighed.
— I won't come back, — the guy suddenly said.
— You... You can't... Father won't allow it. You're a prince, your lands in the province await you, — she stammered but spoke convincingly.
— Lands... What do I need them for?... I'll travel... Join the army... There's always a war somewhere... I'll be useful. I'm not needed here. No one is waiting for me, — hiding the bitterness.
— What about me? What about us?
— You are the queen. Father's wife. You'll bear him a son. Then I'll return to serve him...
— No, I won't! — she almost blurted out, catching herself in time. — I... will wait for you anyway... You are my best friend!... You are the best!..
— And you are the best... I will never forget you... I will never have another like you... — he said, looking away. Robbie found her hand and squeezed it. She rested her head on his shoulder.
From a distance, Thibault tried to guess who was sitting on the hill next to his brother. He had just arrived from his duchy to say goodbye to the departing Robbie. Thibault was not often summoned by his father, and the brothers had not seen each other for a long time. And now he wondered how his brother had changed and who the girl was grieving with him.
Turning to each other simultaneously in a desire to say something, the young people froze motionless, and Robbie carefully kissed the girl. She closed her eyes and did not open them for a while, as if expecting a miracle.
— I don't care... I love you, — he said firmly and stood up.
— I love you, — Della echoed quietly.
Holding hands, they descended; behind them, Thibault watched mockingly, with unpleasant surprise recognizing the queen. He once again decided that his father allowed his wife too much. And he also noted with envy that she had grown up beautifully. And become more beautiful.
The farewell was sad; Della watched through tears as the gloomy Robbie said goodbye to the court youth, his friends. His brother hugged him, saying something mockingly, patted his cheek. The guy was embraced by his father, smiling quietly, persuading him of something. The prince's face lit up with a smile, the first in recent days. He exchanged a few brief phrases with the king, nodded to Della, and jumped into the saddle. The girl's heart ached with longing and heavy forebodings: would they never meet again? Was this the end? The horse under the prince pranced in place, dancing.