Endless Ambition

“But you’ve slipped under my skin, invaded my blood and seized my heart.”

Her father sent for her two months after the first attack, on an icy winter morning and in only a couple of hours, she threw away the fancy stitching her stepmother insisted her to work on and prepared herself a travelling chest. She had been expecting this moment ever since her father's departure. Nobody dared to ask why the Duke wasn't summoning his heir, instead of asking for his middle daughter, because while his sister was getting ready to fulfill his role in front of their father, her older brother, her father's heir, was kept to his bed, struck down by high fever, half conscious of the events that were taking place around him.
She was very much aware that if her father won this war, she may never become the crowned head, but she was determined to take over and rule from behind her unqualified brother's back. Her father practically raised her for to do exactly that.

Her arrival turned the scale in her father's favour and determined the war's outcome.
She still spent almost four years there, alongside her father and his men, acting as his advisor and his main ally.

She didn't hesitate any second when it came to giving up her beautiful, embroidered dresses for men's clothes and parting from her chambermaids, nor when she had to learn to pass quietly during chilly nights in order to clean herself of many days' grime.

Two years and a half after her arrival and exactly one year before her father's triumph, she carried on the first one of her many acts of defiance.
It was during a formal dinner in her father's pavilion, when she was introduced to a young and very promising Captain in the Duke's army, already very much admired by her father. And also very betrothed to her older sister, Maria. She recalled hearing his name casually mentioned among her family, but it wasn't until that evening that she decided to put to the test her personal charm. It certainly wasn't the first time she was flirting with someone, because what other guilt-free pastime could a noble young lady enjoy if not an innocent tease of charming courtiers? But she certainly never dared to foresee the outcome of her actions.

In only a few weeks, she was secretly leaving her tent in the middle of the winter nights only to meet him, far from prying eyes. And from there on, things could only move in one direction, even if she kept trying to convince herself that it was nothing more than harmless play.

"No, Albrecht ... It has to be the last time ..."
"You keep saying that. Every night. Yet you keep coming to me. Just one more night, right, Agnes?"
"That's Your Grace, for you, not Agnes..."
"I apologise for my recklessness, Your Grace ... Should I try to prove to you just how sorry I am ...?"

As their armies won more battles and the end of her father's campaign was closer, she came to the conclusion that there was only one way to settle the things between them, for having to put an end to whatever name they referred to this endless banter between them was simply not something she was ready to face.
"We could run away and get married, you know? The war is almost over and your father doesn't need your help anymore... "
"I'm not going to give up on everything that I have built up until now, Albrecht ... It is my birthright."
"Then I will simply go and marry Maria. That's what your father wants, right?"
He never got tired of provoking her in every possible way. Even if it always ended with her slaping him.
"Don't even dare mention her name in front of me!"
"As you wish, Your Grace ..."

"Don't you feel guilty sometime?"
"What should I feel guilty for?"
"Depriving your brother of his power? Hiding from your father? Stealing your sister's betrothed ...?"
"As if that would only be my accomplishment? I'm certain you might have had something to do with it too..."
The morning when her father informed her of their victory was marked by the first day of spring.
"What now, Agnes? You know that we will have to part, sooner or later. And the next time we will meet will probably be at your sister's wedding."
"Give me just one more day. I'll talk to my father."

Death is the only god who comes when you call

“A story has no beginning or end: arbitrarily one chooses that moment of experience from which to look back or from which to look ahead.”

When has breathing become so agonizing? Living and breathing and just surviving until the next day was simply too excruciating.

"I am sorry ... Please forgive me..."

Her words are barely a whisper and her only companion is just an infant, so he doesn't react. He's just sitting there, left hand half in his mouth, because he is probably still teething and he has his own pain to occupy his thoughts with. Her two oldest daughters left early the same morning, probably to search for something to eat.

None of them has eaten in two days and her milk has dried up or maybe she just never had it in the first place, so the baby is squeamish and hasn't stopped crying since she gave birth, three days ago. She's small and pink and wrinkly and nothing like her other children and she simply can't make herself take that strange creature in her arms and feed it. She's spent the last two days watching her, almost begging every God whose name she could remember to take its life so she wouldn't have to do it with her own hands. And, with every breath the fragile creature takes, she becomes even more convinced that the gods must hate her.

It all began when her husband left to fight in that damned war and abandoned with two small children to care for and another baby on the way. Life had been difficult with him too, but without him she was just another forgotten woman. Why did men crave foolish dreams of greatness and bravery? It was nothing but an illusion. What difference does it make to the widows, the orphans left behind and the homeless if some men depart this life covered in glory while others have no honour but survive?

Theirs was one of the villages that held well until the third year of war. Everyone was running low on supplies but somehow they managed and survived. Until that morning when the Duke's men stormed in.

Because their house was out of the way they heard the screams when it was already too late. Some of the neighbouring houses were already on fire and she can still recall seeing one of her friend's younger children flying out through the window and falling directly in a spear. The smell of burnt fluesh was the worse though. And the screams. She hears them every single night. High pitched shouts of small children whose chests were mercilessly pierced by the soldiers' swords and the muffled wails of women.

She doesn't have nightmares about how it happened, but she remembers his face and his sharp features. His scar and his hard lined jaw. And, more than anything, the pure hatred in his eyes.

Later, when he got tired of her, she was left behind in the snow, the throb in her entire body a painful reminder of what took place in her own courtyard.

Her daughters emerged later from behind the barn, carrying their younger brother with them. Her children survived, yet she felt like she lost everything.

Five months later, the evidence was there and the signs impossible to ignore. Three days ago she birthed that strange creature that hasn't stopped crying and now she is exhausted and tired of life.

The rope feels rough around her neck and the trembling in her limbs is slowing her down, but her movements are almost mechanical, so she doesn’t need to concentrate, which is pleasant. She takes one single step forward and in a couple of minutes it is over.  

The other side

“The world was collapsing, and the only thing that really mattered to me was that he was alive.”

I was 23 when I knew lust and desire. And more than everything, infatuation. My only fault was that I mistook it for love. It was with someone else but my husband, a man that I could not have, someone that I should not have loved, because it was against everything that I took pride in: morality, loyalty and integrity. But who are we to lay down the law to our hearts?
It was the same war that I despised and loathed so much that brought us together and maybe, under different circumstance, things would not have been the same for us and we would have been merely acquaintances.
This war had taken its toll on all of us, for I have seen more blood and death and suffering in those past 10 months since the first attack than I have in my entire life. After the onslaught on the small village, things only grew worse in a matter of days. We thought that we had time and that everything was just a limited strife and so we waited for the things to amend. We couldn't have been more wrong.

As I was still caring for the wounded villagers, another raid took us by surprise. They came out of nowhere and I barely managed to alert the people, while everyone took a run, crippled old men and mothers with babies in their arms. I was stunned and an old woman almost had to push me out of the merciless soldiers' way. We ran in the nearby forest, where we took cover, waiting for the men's madness to burn down. I was too scared to even take a look in the village's direction and all I could hear were other people's screams. In my bewildered state, I wasn't even aware of what was happening around me.

"Unless your purpose is to roll up your skirt and go divert those men's attention from their slaughtering, I suggest you pull yourself together and change into these clothes, because I see no other way for you to get away from this with your reputation unblemished."

She must have been a well-read woman, but her words and her tone made me blush. At least she managed to turn my attention to our more critical problems.

As I was changing my dress for a pair of trousers and a man's shirt, I noticed that all the women who managed to escape along with us were doing the same with their daughters, dressing the younger girls in various clothing they took with them before they ran.

After that first night spent in the woods, I took the road all by myself, following the army's trails of destruction. Everywhere I looked I could only see ravage and grief. Innocent men crippled, guiltless children killed without the slightest sign of remorse, wives and young girls ravished all together. I never imagined so much deviltry could exist in our world. And then, the battlefields were flooded with more and more dead bodies. My only solace was that my father and brother were not among them. And neither was Gregory, thank goodness, because I wasn't ready to become widowed so soon and raise five children by myself.

The war kept going like this for almost a year and a half. I received occasional news from my mother about my family, but I never heard a word of my husband. I suspected he wasn't aware of me wandering around the realm, probably expecting to find his wife at her parents' house, safe from everything.

There were days when I actually considered fleeing there, away from the horrors that I had to face every day. But with Teacher no longer among the living ... I knew that was not an option.

That autumn, after months of poor nourishment, sleepless nights and countless miles, I fell ill with pneumonia and I had to take refuge to a nearby military camp. I would remain there almost two years, prior to the end of the war.

It was not the first time we came across each other, but the circumstances were everything but the same. He was a high-aimed man, driven by hatred and ambition against his brother. He knew that if he won this war that his brother initiated, he and his descendants would rule this land. I had none of his ambition, nor his idealism and I still remained by his side.

Those two years of my life were nothing but a blur of pure sensations. Skin sliding against skin, lips and hands exploring, caressing, until our senses were completely overwhelmed and there was nothing left but the two of us, together. Fear was our daily drug, the only thing that fueled our desire and drove us to seek comfort in each other's arms.

At the end of those two years, we knew that we were approaching the end of the war. And we were on the wrong side. He was prepared to lose everything, even his life, but I was not. We bade adieu with the last snow, two months before his brother's victory, and as he gently kissed my forehead, I knew I would never see him again.

“Veni, vidi, vici. (I came, I saw, I conquered.)”

“Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.”

I've never imagined how much a woman's decisions can change the course of history, nor what an impact one person's folly can influence other people's lives. And although no one recalls her name anymore, I don't think there is a person in the realm, peasant or noble who could question her role in this war.
It all began that fateful December night, the night when the first snow fell over the realm.

The air was cold and tiny snowflakes began descending from the sky as the night settled. It was quiet in the village. Almost too quiet, but no one suspected a thing and everyone went to bed early that evening. By midnight nothing would ever be the same.

They thread their way through the woods like wild beasts, masking their footing, so the moment when they reached the dormant village they took everyone by surprise. The poor people never stood a chance, for they were farmers, not warriors. Most of the men died that night, trying to stand for their wives and daughters and those who survived were mutilated for life. They killed babies in their cradles and profaned wives and young girls in their own beds, because that's the unwritten law of war. That's how the awaited war between the Duke and the Marquess began.

Dear Mother,
I lost the count on how many weeks have passed since I haven't seen my children and I barely managed to find a moment to take breath and write you a few lines.
First of all, I wanted to say how relieved I was when I found that father's soldiery wasn't among the ones that invaded the Marquess' domains last week. I know that our family serves the Duke and I even heard rumours about a possible promise from the Duke that he would marry his oldest daughter to Albrecht, as a way to express his gratification for father's loyal service, yet I can't help but feel disquiet about the events that took place this winter.
After the attack, the Marquess called his people and assembled an army to return like for like and, from what I've heard, they're preparing an onslaught. I can't tell you more, for I fear that this letter might get intercepted on its way to you, so I will end it here, by entreating you to be careful and take earth for yourself. I know that father and even Albrecht will be summoned by the Duke and will probably have to go join in his army, so I can only hope that we won't find ourselves on different sides of the barricade.
Yours truly,
Alleken Marie

I knew that the last lines would probably confuse Mother, but I couldn't risk telling her more. After my marriage to Gregory, I have lived on the opposite side of the realm, the territories under the Marquess' trusteeship and although  I don't plan to take part with someone on this fight, I know very well that such a desire is probably pointless, because my husband will likely end up fighting my brother and father.
For now, all I can do is try to alleviate the misery on those poor, pitiable people that are caught in the middle of this 'brotherly' conflict, while trying to ignore the fact that I might actually be among them.

I haven't seen my family since I was called to assist the injured, and that must have been more than two weeks ago, but I know that there is no need for me to worry, because my children are back home with my mother and they are well taken care of. For now. Our town is far from the actual battlefield and I still hope that this conflict will come to a standstill in the next weeks, before more people will lose their lives in vain.

New Addition To The Family

"Women may fall when there's no strength in men."

I was only 20 years old when I understood what beeing humiliated truly meant. But now, looking back to it, I understand that in a way, it was my fault. I was too young, too blind and I knew nothing of temptation and lust.
It was the beginning of winter and I was trying to enjoy a couple of non-working days with my children, taking delight in the fact that all four of them were hale and hearty. The house was clean and I just managed to lull the babies to sleep, so I went to bed earlier, hoping to catch up on some sleepless nights I had to spend caring for a young mother. Of course, sleep didn't come easy to me that night either.

Even Gregory was at home, fanning the flame in the parlour and recounting to his footman some insignificant happenings from the farm. For a few moments I felt like I was truly happy. And then, of course, I saw the housemaid beckoning me. I got dressed in a hurry and followed her into the kitchen from where she guided me to our servants' quarters.
The room was dark and poorly ventilated and the stifling air made me dizzy, so I had to grip to the kitchen maid's upper arm to prevent myself from fainting right away.
I heard her cry a moment before I saw her and I was taken aback, because that was the instant when I understood everything.
She was beautiful. By God, she was so beautiful she stood no chance, and I didn't comprehend that until it was too late. And my husband was a weak man...

Some midwife must I have been not to notice a woman living under my roof, trying to conceal her pregnancy from my eyes, while everyone around me was aware of it.

Right before my eyes was Maud, my devoted wet-nurse, the woman I took into my house and entrusted with the care of my children. Pregnant and ready to deliver a baby. My husband's baby. I wanted to weep and pity myself, for I must have been sightless not to notice what was happening right into my house.
I am ashamed to admit that the first thing that I wanted to do was leave her there and run upstairs, lock myself into my bedchamber and cry. But Gregory was upstairs and I was not yet prepared to see him.
It was the most difficult decision in my life, but I knew that I could never forgive myself if I left her there and something were to happen to her. I did my best, trying not to think about what this child meant for me and ignoring Maud's pleas. How could I blame her for my own recklessness?

I tried anything to save her, but I knew I would lose her by the sunrise. She bled to death one and a half hour after delivering a baby girl and I couldn't do anything to save her, beeing forced to watch the poor woman gradually wither away.

For a moment, I felt relieved, but then I looked at the little baby girl lying in my arms. In a way, I couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor baby, knowing what an orphan's life would probably be. She wouldn't stand a chance, especially now, during winter months.
"Poor, innocent soul ... Why are you supposed to pay the fiddler for someone else's sin?"

So I made the most frantic decision of my life. I swaddled the baby and took her upstairs, to my husband.

Needless to say, he didn't ask for many explanations. He did squawk and bawl at me for a couple of minutes, but began to sing a different tune when I placed the baby in a cradle in the nursery, next to our children.

"Her mother wanted her to be named Sarah, so I complied. She's healthy, but I'm sending her and our children at my parents' for a few of months. I'm sure they will agree and find a wet-nurse for them."
There was no way I was going to employ another woman under the age of 50 and bring her into my house.
Me and Gregory didn't talk to each other for the next two weeks.

The Gathering Storm

“The marks humans leave are too often scars.” 

On the far side of this land, near the Dark Sea, a tenebrous, old castle defies the mighty waves, its well-worn mures still struggling to resist each flowing tide. Long ago, this castle was inhabited by a Duke far gone in years and his young wife. But that was many years ago, and very few people still remember the old Duke's lour.

These days, in the gloomy castle dwells a so much younger Duke with his Duchess, both of them still bearing the same family name as the older Duke, whose steps no longer reecho along the damp galleries. Nowadays, a fire burns every day in each fireplace, carefully supervised by quiet servants.

The castle's living its glory again and monthly feasts are thrown only to amuse the Duke's family and maybe distract the people from the real problems that are beginning to make their presence felt. Because, even with the feasts and balls and all the splendour that radiates, everyone can feel the war clouds and knows that hard times will soon arrive.

There are two masters of this land and none of them can tolerate the other's presence, nor do they seem to try to come to terms for the good of their people. Up until now, and maybe for another couple of years, this dispute has been carried behind closed doors, but things are about to change. Gone are the poisonous flasks of wine and the tasters dying in the place of their master and gone shall they be for the next decades, for now each attempt has come to nothing and the two masters are starting to show signs of growing impatient.
The realm is divided and people are poor. Everyone wishes for better living, but ploughmen and peasants and merchants are in need of a mighty leader. And so, there will be one. Only one.

But what do children know of their parents' conflicts? Whose side are they supposed to take? For in the old castle, now live 6 children that, although have never seen their other 4 cousins, have been taught from the cradle how to hate them. But malignity and hatred seem to be a common emotion during brothers these days, because even if the two masters share the same mother and father and have been raised together, the days of their boyhood have long before been passed into silence.
For now though, the children have no knowledge of their father's schemes and they are unwittingly living the last years of their feathery childhood. The castle is replete with servants and dry nurses that would do anything to fulfill each of their young masters' desire.
As the chill in the air announces the imminent proximity of winter and the light of the day decreases, those 6 young noble children are happy to let themselves be carried by their mother's fingers gliding softly along the piano's keys, too mesmerized to take notice of their father's lengthened absence.

The Duke spends most of his time locked in his apartments, discussing various problems with his counselors, while his wife enjoys the fact that she no longer has to bear children, for her last pregnancy and delivery had been quite traumatic and had taken its toll on her.

Ever since she recovered her health, the noble woman became quite detached and even more fastidious, if such thing could even be possible if her case, leaving her children to be raised and cared for by various maids and governesses.

Related only by the blood of their father, the Duke's children don't seem to mind their mother's absence too much, nor the differences between themselves. The oldest of the girls, Maria, is barely 15, an age which would seem appropriate for a marriage, but in the absence of a proper suitor, she continues to spend her time with her younger sisters, playing grown up, while the oldest of the boys, Thomas, named after his grandfather, taken ill with phthisis at an early age, is far from the worthy heir his father would wish for inheriting the family's wealth and renown. Artless of his father's concerns, the boy prefers to spend his time instructing his younger sister, Agnes, in the art of chess.

The girl, while younger than her brother by a couple of years, is already showing an unhealthy interest in her brothers and father's affairs.

Last but not least, the other three children, a boy and his twin sisters, are far too young, for they have barely put their feet down the cradle.

A tale of a tub

“I lie to myself all the time. But I never believe me.”

"Come on, Alleken..."
"Not tonight, please."
"Please? It's been four months since you've given birth."
"I know Gregory, but I'm exhausted. I barely slept for a few hours in the last three days and I'm so tired I don't even have the energy to unclothe myself."
"You don't even have to take your dress off ... You could simply tuck up your skirts ... "
"Hands off, Gregory. Don't you dare tuch me tonight!"
"That's it! You managed to drive me crazy again, woman!"
The door closes with a heavy noise and here I am again, alone in my bedchamber, one more night. I could hear Gregory tramping along the hall and locking the door from his apartment. And, of course, all this bustle woke up the children ... 

Dear Mother,
I am sorry it took me so long to reply to your last letter, but those past few weeks of autumn proved to be quite challenging for me.
I was called to assist at numerous births all around the realm and I barely spent a few days at home. Fortunately for us, the children are in good health and the wet nurse adores them. Have I told you about the new wet nurse that I found last month? Of course not.
Four or five weeks ago, my breast milk suddenly dried up and, even if I knew from the very beginning that it would be almost impossible for me, as a first time mother, to breastfeed four babies, I found myself yearning for those moments that I used to spend with my children.
So, I had to find a wet nurse. Teacher told me about a young woman from a nearby village that gave birth not so long ago to a stillborn baby. She was also a widow and it was her first child, so it wasn't too hard to convince her to accept to live with us for a year or so. She's a simple woman, born and raised in a poor family, yet she came to love my children as her own and I couldn't ask for more, because she has been a great help those past weeks, especially with me beeing so busy almost all the time.
As I mentioned before, I became quite notorious in the past few years and people all over the realm come looking for my help. Of course, most of the time I assist women giving birth and cure children od colds, but, from time to time, there are also some interesting cases. Take today for example. I had to get out of bed long before sunrise, because a young girl, no older than 6 or 7, living in a building across the way, came to our door, asking me to help her mother. I got dressed as quick as I could and hurried to help the poor woman.

By the time I arrived at their house, the girl's mother had been in labour for at least ten hours and was nearly exahausted. I checked her and I came to the tragic conclusion that her unborn baby was no longer alive. I remember seeing cases like this one sometime during my first year with Teacher. Women, most of the time over the age of 35, would suffer from elevated blood pressure later in their pregnancy and, by the time their labour occurs, both mother and baby are in danger, because there are only two possible outcomes and both of them result in the unborn baby's death. All we can do is to try and save the mother.

So, 6 hours after my arrival, the woman gave birth to a stillborn son. I have to admit that, even if I knew that was the only way we could save her, my heart nearly broke when I saw her husband's and children's sad faces. How could I make those children understand that was the only way I could save their mother?
I remained there for another few hours, looking after the childwife and watching her husband chiseling a small wood casket for another son that he would lay in the ground.

Mother, do you recall all that tittle-tattle about the old Duke's daughter and her mother's lover? It happened before I was born, but I'm certain some old maids still like to discuss it over the fire, during long winter nights. How everyone whispered that the Duchess banished her daughter, because the young girl gave birth to a baby, and the baby's father was no less than her mother's young man? The Duchess' object of consternation, that innocent baby born in sin, died only a couple of months later, but no one but the young mother really seemed to care back then. Do you remember what happened with the Duchess' daughter? Everyone assumed her mother locked her in a convent, but nothing could have been further from the truth. Her mother forced her to marry a peasant that lived on their land and the young girl's name faded into obscurity in no time.

Would you believe me if I told you that this older, overwrought woman that I saved is the same as the young lady from more than 20 years ago? Of course you wouldn't be able to trust your own ears if I said something like that, so don't worry, I'm not going to tell you such a tale.
In lieu of such a tale of a tub, I'm telling you that I'm happy and that Gregory asked me to pass on to you his best wishes. I have a loving husband, a ripping home and my son and daughters are healthy, so what more could I ask for?
I'll finish now, as I'm running out of space and my candle is starting to flicker. It's late and small raindrops are beginning to batter into my window.

Your loving daughter, hopping to hear from you soon,
Alleken Marie