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held out her right hand and Courtenay stepped forward reaching out to take it in his own. A large emerald ring sat upon Ysabel's second finger and Courtenay raised her hand to his lips, kissing the jewel, and allowing it to remain in place for a moment or two longer than perhaps he should have. Gently, he released the Queen's hand, and looked up into her face.

  Ysabel smiled back at him.

  13

  The Twenty-Eighth Day of Hi-spring,

  Imperial Year 2332

  Duke Vollmer placed the two sheets of parchment onto the Queen's desk and then stepped back to join the rest of her council.

  'The documents are there, Your Majesty,' he said. 'You have only to sign them and the wheels are set in motion.'

  Ysabel looked down at the two copies of the declaration of war. Thoughts tumbled through her mind, pulling her emotions to and fro as her heartbeat seemed to race, filling her whole being. Signing the declaration would commit her troops to open conflict, an act she had never truly intended, hoping instead that Frederick could be reasoned with first, but she could hardly sit here being seen to do nothing. Could she?

  She looked over at the Duke. 'I know full well what I should do, Your Grace,' she replied, 'but do not expect me to relish the performance of an act that would send so many young men to their deaths. It does not sit easily on my conscience.'

  'Of course not, Your Majesty,' Vollmer said. 'But the next course of action is clear. Surely you must see that?'

  'It is not clear to me,' Ysabel said, looking around the faces of her Electors. 'Nor is it an easy step for me to take.'

  All stared back at her, expressionless and silent. This was a time for leadership, she knew, and threats were threats. What good would it be to issue an ultimatum to the Emperor and not be prepared to enact on it when the time came. She could not be seen to be weak at a time like this.

  'So, no one disagrees that I should sign these?' she asked.

  There was no answer to her question, and empty eyes looked back at her. They were all frightened, she knew that, it was only natural that they feel that way and none present would ever been on the brink before. Not that she had either. Ysabel looked over at her personal secretary.

  'Is he coming?' she said.

  The secretary looked up from his note taking and peered at Ysabel over his spectacles.

  'He has been summoned, Your Majesty. I cannot think that he will be too much longer.'

  'Good,' Ysabel replied. 'I will not sign until I have spoken with him.'

  Several of the council nodded at her statement, but none uttered a word.

  Long moments passed, moments of silence that seemed to Ysabel to last for an eternity, and as she looked around the faces of her council she could tell that they felt her unease.

  Then, just at the point where she could no longer stand the waiting, there was a knock on the door and Courtenay entered. For a moment, he seemed taken aback when he saw the whole council squeezed into Ysabel's private office but then he regained his composure and strode forward into the room. He reached Ysabel's desk and bowed.

  'Thank you for coming so promptly, My Lord,' Ysabel said, 'but there is a grave matter that I would discuss with you.'

  'Anything, Your Majesty.' Courtenay cocked his head as he listened to the Queen. 'Anything.'

  Ysabel rose from her seat and leaned on the desk. She took a deep breath and said, 'Three days ago, My Lord, we learned that a troop of our men were all but massacred in the hills, to the north and east of Brunswick. Two men survived the attack.'

  Courtenay frowned. 'How many died, Your Majesty?'

  'Twenty-three.'

  Courtenay shook his head. 'That is without doubt a heinous crime. Do we know the identity of the perpetrators?'

  'We believe that we do, Lord Courtenay.'

  'And?'

  'The two survivors saw that their attackers wore uniforms of the Empire, My Lord.' Ysabel looked across at Courtenay but saw no emotion on his face. 'You do not seem particularly surprised?' she added.

  'In truth, I am not.'

  'Then, you knew of this attack?'

  'Not the specific details of this particular incident, Your Majesty, but it is certainly a tactic that Frederick has used before.' He looked her directly in the eye.

  'So, you are saying that this is Frederick's doing?'

  It gave Ysabel no pleasure to think that she had been wrong in her assessment of the Emperor. It seemed that she had been fooled by him on more than one occasion. But, she thought, this had been the last time.

  'Of that I am sure,' Courtenay replied.

  'How can you be?' Ysabel's direct question seem to prompt all of the Council members to lean towards Courtenay, waiting for his reply.

  'Because,' he said, 'I have heard the order come from his mouth with my own ears at other times, Your Majesty.'

  Ysabel shook her head in disbelief, and turned towards the other members of the Council.

  'How could that man look me directly in the eye and still lie to me,' she said. She sat in her chair and sighed. 'And to think that I believed him without question. That I was even considering signing a peace treaty with the man when all this time he was plotting against us.' Ysabel raised her hand to her mouth as she came to a realisation. 'Then it is inevitable,' she said. 'it is true that I have no choice.'

  Courtenay frowned and looked over at her. 'No choice, Your Majesty?'

  'No, My Lord. None.' She reached down and picked up the two sheets of parchment. 'These documents are a declaration of war,' she said, 'and as soon as I sign them, we are committed.'

  'Committed to what?' Courtenay asked. 'Invasion?'

  'Initially, to protect our borders. But after that...well, that depends on Frederick.'

  Ysabel picked up the pen and with a shaking hand signed her name on the first sheet of paper, placing it to one side before signing the second. She rested the pen down on the desktop.

  'It is done,' she said.

  Ysabel looked around the faces of the members of her council.

  'Now,' she said, 'we are at war.'

  14

  The Twenty-Ninth Day of Lo-summer,

  Imperial Year 2332

  It was mid-afternoon when Kateryn opened the door to her room as quietly as she could, popping her head out into the hallway. She glanced to her left and then her right but there was only silence. If there were any domestic staff around then they were nowhere to be seen. She stepped through the doorway allowing the door to close with a click behind her and a rush of excitement caused her heart to beat faster. Despite the fact that this was her home there was something satisfyingly illicit about creeping around the corridors of the Palace unseen. She tip-toed across the carpet and made her way to the far wall before passing down the corridor, towards the doorway that led to the servant's stairway.

  As she reached the intersection at the end of the hall her ears picked up the unmistakeable sound of a creaking hinge from around the corner. Humming followed close behind, the notes making up some tune that Kateryn did not recognise. She pushed her back against the wall, trying to make herself invisible. Her heart thumped and her breaths came quickly. The door, out of sight, clicked closed and footsteps came her way. She held her breath, her heart pounding in her chest, as a maid walked across the intersection, her arms full of bed-linen. The girl kept walking, unaware that her Empress was only feet away and Kateryn let out a sigh of relief after the girl had passed. When she was sure that the maid had gone, and that she was alone again, she darted across the hallway. With a final glance each way she pushed open the door.

  Bare stone walls greeted Kateryn on the other side and carpetless flagstone steps ran downwards and around to her right. As she ran on, the torches ensconced in their holders guttered as the passing air disturbed the flames.

  Not much more than a minute later and she had reached the bottom. The kitchen lay before her. All was quiet and the place was empty of servants; mealtime was long gone and all the clearing up complete. It was still an hour or more b
efore the kitchen staff returned to begin preparing for the evening meal and the copper cooking-pots, so well used and treasured, were gleaming and shiny, stacked on the large wooden work tables that formed an island in the middle of the room. Away to her right were the large deep sinks that could hold gallons of hot piping water, and immediately to her right the large fireplace still had the remains of the last great blaze smouldering away to ashes. Soon, they too would be banked again for another roaring fire. She paused next to the hearth, leaning on one of the great pillars thinking about the hustle and bustle that would go on in here as the kitchen staff prepared meals for her and her family.

  Kateryn's tummy grumbled and she placed her hands on her belly as she was reminded of the very reason for her sneaking around. She had found herself becoming increasingly hungry these days, and at the oddest times of the day. It was most unusual, and not at all like her that she could not wait until mealtimes for something to eat. She looked around, but aside from the mixing bowls and other tools and implements there was nothing left out on the worktops.

  Then, as she looked across the kitchen she saw the door that led to the pantry. The metal handle had been fitted with a ring that would allow a chain and lock to be fitted should it be needed, its counterpart sunk deep into the stonework of the wall. Kateryn crept over and pressed the latch. The door opened smoothly enough onto a storeroom which had been set with shelves and benches. Hanging from hooks, higher than her head, were pheasants and grouse, and laying on the bench