The darkness of the night, with its heavy shroud of fog, enclosed her as she stood along on the parapet, gazing outwards. Her father’s castle had always easily defended due to its enclosure on three sides by the protective raging seas surrounding it. The grayed stone fortress had been quite impregnable since her great-grandfather, Godfrey the fearless, had it built by his brave soldiers, all of whom were happy to “retire” after this to a gentler way of life on small farms her great-grandfather gave them for their loyal service to him.
She smiled into the dark, recalling her grandfather telling her the stories of building this place stone by stone, and how he as a boy, and then young man, had worked tirelessly with his own father. Together, he had told her proudly, he and his father had worked to make this the strongest, most impregnable fortress in the land. And they had succeeded. For four generations, the castle had never been breached. Their lands had remained theirs, free of invaders. To the invaders over the years who had tried to capture the proud fortress, who concealed her aging well over the years, the grayed stone monolith had remained unscalable, her walls cold, and impregnable. The incredibly steep, rocky inclines that led from the sea, on her other three sides were impossible to climb. Of course, that assumed that you and your boat survived the crashing waves along the shoreline. When the king had gifted this land with its strange, jutting promontory of land to Sir Godfrey, everyone in the king’s liege had shaken their heads in amazement. Why, all had wondered in confusion, would Godfrey, the king’s obviously most favored knight of the realm, would have requested such a “god-forsaken” stretch of what most considered worthless land.
But Godfrey, was a man who not only had been a brilliant battle tactician for his majesty, he was also wise. He listened carefully to those around, would think long and hard, considering all the angles, before making a decision, or forming an opinion. He could see well beyond the dross, the glitz, and the glamour of something. He could see the value of what lay beneath the surface. Or in this case, the neglected lands had hidden its wealth well below the surface dirt. The value was in the minerals his men had discovered and mined, at the direction of one very wise, elderly citizen of the land. Those minerals were in ever-increasing demand, not just in this country, but through the years, Godfrey’s son and grandson had all worked on finding new outlets for their wares. Their fortunes grew over the many years. And over time, with care, knowledge and work, the land itself had again become tillable and was now a wonderfully rich farmland as well. Sir Godfrey, his family, and his men had all become quite wealthy from his wise decision.
To those who lived here at the castle, or within its protected surrounding lands, life had been very good. And to them, the castle was a beautiful, warm gray color, whose stone edifice represented their past, their present protection, and the future security for their children and grandchildren. After all, this was the fourth generation living here now… there had been no reason to assume an end would come.
But underneath it all was a growing sense of change. For the first time since Godfrey the fearless had died, and his son, the Lady Frances’ grandfather, had inherited the great lands, was there no son to inherit the land. There was no son to become their liege lord and protect the castle and her lands and her people. Now, all of her father’s men, his people, they would have accepted Frances gladly as their liege. They knew that all the people, the soldiers of her fathers also, would follow “milady Fran” as they called her. But everyone, and none more than the lady herself, had known that when the king learned of her father’s passing, all of their lives would change, and probably not for the better, in her mind.
Fran moved to the far side of the parapet, this time gazing not seaward, but towards the land. Because she knew the king’s “man” or envoy, would approach from that direction. She knew he would come as surely as she knew the sun would rise in the morning, shortly before she awoke. Inside her dark green velvet cloak, her hand clenched around what had been left of the kings’ official notice. The king’s messenger had arrived today, but he had been delayed, he admitted, but he had not specified exactly how long, but it had been near to a month, if not longer, by illness. Somehow, Fran suspected that it had been a touch of fear at delivering the message to her that had caused his “illness” to linger for so long. There were many stories she knew, that had circulated over the years about the third Godfrey’s only child.
Being an only child, her father had probably treated her differently than if she had been one of a dozen growing up together. Many times, as she grew up, she had wished for siblings, longed to have a younger brother or sister. But her mother, the Lady Josephine, had died when Fran was quite young. And her father, having married for love, never remarried. Oh, he had plenty of opportunity of the years. Anyone, and everyone, with a daughter, sister, a widowed in-law, presented with an offer. But beyond the occasional dalliance in another town, he gave himself to his only child’s upbringing and the well being of his people. And thus they had all lived, with no outside disturbances or interruptions to their quiet and peaceful existence. Barring the scandal that is of five years earlier involving the Lady Frances the residents had lived in quiet, successful splendor.
Fran shivered as the damp of the night air finally began penetrating her heavy cloak. It was spring, and though the days were warm and wonderful, the nights were still rather chilly so close to the sea, especially on the parapet as she was. She was glad that she had thrown on the heavier cloak, for the air was more breezy than usual, and had a nip to it. And beneath her cloak, she was naked. That was how she always slept, and since no one else was up, or bound to even awaken at this hour of the night, she had seen no reason to cover herself with more than her cloak.
Finally, thoroughly chilled, Fran turned and picked up the glass lantern she had carried with her to light her way. It gave off more light in the dark of night than one might expect. She moved back to the seaward side of the castle. She loved the sea, having lived with its embrace for all of her life. She loved the sound of the waves and the smell of the salty sea on the winds that danced over her skin. She moved over to where there was a gap in the protective waist high wall. She could step up through the gap, and feel the wind dance against her. She set the lantern on the wall, several feet away, so she wouldn’t accidentally knock it over, and stepped into the opening in the wall. There she stood poised high above the earth and ocean. She flung out her arms as if to embrace the sea and the wind, and the winds whipped her cloak back from her naked body. For a few interminable minutes, her pearly white skin gleamed in a ghostly splendor. She was partially lit by lantern. She was truly a magnificent sight, naked, full-breasted, slim waist and long thighs. Luckily, she knew there was no way anyone could possibly see her. Lowering her arms, her cloak settled back around her, concealing her nude body once again.
She laughed and stepped back down from her precarious perch. She was laughing at her timid daringness, to expose herself like that, even though she knew there was no one there to see her. Often in the darkness of night, she would lie on her bed, totally naked, her covers shoved to the foot of the wide bed. She would luxuriate in the feel of her naked limbs moving across the cool sheets, while she listened to the mesmerizing sounds of the sea below. She loved listening to the waves; whether they were quiet and gentle waves, calming and rhythmical. And when the sea was wild, with crashing and booming all around, she loved that even more.
When she had been eighteen, she had begged her father to let her make this her bedroom. It had been her great-grandfather’s room, but everyone else from that time forward, had preferred to look at the land for a view from their window. She had added a few windows carved into the rock, the whole time her father had just shook his head in confusion and bewilderment. At times like that he had seen glimpses of the same characteristics that had been his grandfather’s. Her room had become her inner sanctum. She could come here and lose herself in her sketching and watercolors, or curl up in her great-grandfather’s huge chair and read a book. Here she would come to be alone, to heal her wounds, to seek inner balance and peace when the world around her would get too hectic. She settled into her large bed (which had originally been built for her great-grandfather’s over six-foot tall, broad-shouldered frame) and slowly let herself sink into the recently re-stuffed feather bed. It wasn’t very long before she slipped into a deep sleep.
Her dreams were filled with fog-enshrouded figures crossing the beautiful green, grassy field that fronted the castle. Out of the mist they came, what seemed to be hundreds of them by the sound of it. But no, it was men, on huge horses, like destriers of old. And as they came closer she could see they were soldiers, fully out-fitted for battle they were. Their shields were sporting a design, a crest perhaps, but the only revealed a dark green background, but no details. Their colors of the shields matched their proudly flying banners, which were at the front of the approaching men. But she could not tell who their leader was because the men all seemed to be dressed the same… She could not see that anyone was dressed more flamboyantly than any other was.
In her dream, she and her house guards, along with several of her father’s older living friends- who had also served her father, and now herself, as advisors, walked out to meet the soldiers. Like a death toll, she heard their words. They claimed her castle; her lands were all being seized by the king! She and her people were being cast out of their homes, being robbed of their possessions. People she had known all of her life, elderly to infants were all turning to her, crying because of their enforced homelessness. She cried out in her sleep ‘No!’
And finally through her dream-fogged mind, the cries penetrated. Words that had never before been spoken here. “The castle has been breached!
