The Heiress of Baylin

They came in a brigade of gold and brown, storming my father’s quiet country home in droves. Everything inside was smashed, unrecognizable from the home where I had grown. The disguise had failed. My face contained too many feminine features to be falsely construed as male. My soft eyes combined with the fullness of my lips betrayed me. The king’s guards forcefully stripped the boyish clothing from me and demanded that I change into a dress immediately. I slipped on one of the few items of clothing I owned, a shapeless dress fastened at the waist by a girdle.

We were a simple family, my father, brothers and I. There was a time when no one would have bothered with us, a time when we lived out our lives in the country peacefully. Everything was different now. Throughout the past year our kingdom had rapidly lost its females. No one knew why the women were dying. An unknown plague inflicted them. The consensus amongst my people was clearly determined that God was against us. For some unknown reason, however, I seemed to possess immunity to this devastating disease.

My father and brothers were hauled away as they contained me. My arms were held behind me with my wrists tied together by rope. Tears flooded my eyes as they pulled me outside my home, dragging me to a carriage to be taken away. They slammed the door behind me but I could still hear their muffled voices on the other side. I peered out the carriage window to see.

“Did you find any others?” One guard asked another. He seemed to be the leader of the rest. I assessed this because he was the only one wearing a white silk shirt that was frilled at the neck and wrists. Over this he wore a brown doublet embroidered with gold thread. Brown and gold were the colors of our kingdom of Baylin, the ones represented on our flag along with an image of the hawk, our nation’s symbol. He was clearly a man with prosperity and wealth, probably working under the king’s majesty directly. The other guards were mostly dressed in golden armor.

“No, my lord. She is the only one,” the other guard replied grimly.

“Then she is the last,” the lead guard sighed heavily under his breath.

My eyes fluttered open the following morning to a strip of sunlight shining through the only window in my cell, a small, square opening with metal bars across it. I sat up in my narrow bed and sighed as I took in the sight of the cold, chamber walls that encompassed me. This was not simply a nightmare. This was reality. The room was mostly empty with my bed being the only piece of furniture and some recreational reading material stacked in one corner. It was a dull environment with no décor, a prison environment. A metal door with an iron lock located along the wall across from me was my only way to the outside world. If I pressed my ear to it, I could faintly hear the mumbling of guards on the other side.

I supposed I was considered a hazard to society now, someone to be kept hidden in a tower. My one and only crime was my sex. Perhaps they sought to keep me isolated until they could decide who would have me. Obviously I would have to be married quickly to produce many children. I deliberated my part in this crucial role. Fear radiated through my veins as I also considered my father and brothers. I could only guess what had happened to them. Despite my youth, I was smart enough to understand that the likelihood of me seeing them again was slim. I had to choke down the hard lump that was rising in my throat when I thought about this. My father and brothers had committed a crime by attempting to hide me away and disguise me as a peasant boy. After all, it had become a treasonable offense to hide living women during this dark time.

The time passed by slowly – too slowly. I paced from one end to the room to the other, my bare feet against the cold, stone floor. I attempted to read but gave up quickly, having tossed my book back onto the pile. I was too frightened to concentrate. My eyes continuously flashed towards the door in anticipation whenever I heard the slightest hint that someone would enter. With each passing moment I was growing increasingly apprehensive and impatient.

The only form of comfort I possessed was the bustling sound outside of trotting horses against cobblestone in the street below. Through the window I could see the tops of buildings made of solid masonry with elaborate decorative stone and brickwork. They had taken me far from my family’s quiet rural home. I was now in the center of town, brought forth as property of the public. I wasn’t sure what would become of me but I knew I had to remain strong. Having been raised predominantly by men, I felt their masculine energy fuel me, maintaining my strength and sanity in this dark place. However, my resolve could only keep me going for so long. Being uncertain and afraid took its toll. After a while, I curled into fetal position on my bed and allowed the tears to escape, the fairness of my sex finally asserting itself.

The iron unhinged as the door to my cell suddenly swung open later that evening. I whirled my legs over the side of my bed and jumped to my feet in anticipation, excited to see someone – anyone.

My guard’s name was Brandon Bennett. I was immediately stunned at the sight of his brawny, dark haired appearance. He was dressed in familiar, golden and brown uniform. In hand, he held a bowl of porridge but despite my growling stomach, I was too perplexed to take it from him right away. My eyes were fixed on his figure as the most beautiful male specimen that I had ever had the pleasure of witnessing. The mere sight of him hit me like a pile of rubble, eliminating my fear. Though I probably should have been wary by this stranger, I found myself to be strangely infatuated by him.

“Sorry for the late arrival of your dinner, my lady,” he spoke, his voice sounding as angelic as the chiming of church bells. “The guard who was originally assigned to serve you had to be executed for treason after openly admitting to a plot to try and sleep with you but I can assure you, your dignity is safe with me.” I could barely pay attention to the words he spoke as I took quick strides across the room towards him. Brandon cautiously took a step back from my eager advance, holding out the bowl of porridge with an outstretched hand. His face was hard, cold and distant. For good reason, he was on edge about associating with me on a personal level. I could see the muscles in his jaw clench at my approach. An invisible, mental barrier blocked me from him.

He was probably wise to distance himself. I imagined that with the extremity of competition for my hand, anyone would be wise to stay away from me if they valued their existence. Still, I could not help but crave his attention in the same manner that a dog might salivate over a bone. I hesitated taking the bowl from him, knowing that he would immediately exit and leave me to my solitude after I did. I wanted to keep him here as long as I could, bathe in his presence.

“What is it like to be a guard?” I stupidly asked to make conversation and prolong his stay in my cell. My voice picked up a flirtatious tone. The hardness in his eyes softened slightly as I gazed at him from under my lashes. I inhaled deeply, close enough now to take in his scent. He smelled salty and sweaty but yet, I found this highly alluring. I desired more of it, more of him. It was then that a primal instinct over came me and, before he could answer my question, I leapt up on my toes to press my lips to his. I knew that this action was unacceptable behavior for a young lady and if anyone had asked, I might’ve brushed off the act as a strategy for escape; flirt with the guard in exchange for a favor. The truth, however, was that I was overpowered by my senses.

“Woman!” he snapped angrily, “Are you mad? Don’t you dare! You’re going to have me killed!” He shoved the porridge into my hands forcefully so that I had to take it from him then he maneuvered away from me in one swift, backwards stride.

“Please, Brandon, I pray you to tell me how much longer am I to be locked in here? I ought to be quick with child for sake of peace in this realm, don’t you think?” I yelled after him in desperation. This remark seemed to make him even more uncomfortable than he already was, probably because he knew that I was hinting that I wanted to have a child with him.

“Yes but, my lady, I can’t – ”

“No one will tell me anything!” I interrupted; feeling frustrated now, both figuratively and carnally. “Please, I have a right to know. I’m not a real prisoner,” I reminded him, gazing up at him pleadingly. I could see the hint of compassion lifting his eyes. His resolve seemed to be weakening slightly.

“Alright,” he sighed. “I’m not at liberty to divulge too much information,” he spoke in a hushed whisper, “but for sake of your peace of mind, I will tell you that you won’t be in here much longer.” I breathed a heavy sigh of relief and tried to push for more but his face hardened once again. I took his hand and placed it in both of mine. The touch felt warm and soothing against my skin. At once, he pulled away.

“No, my lady. No more,” he replied curtly before hurrying out, locking the door firmly behind him. I felt the sting of rejection stab my chest like the strike from a dagger. Some might’ve said that I was foolish as a result of my tender age. After all, I was but seventeen. I had experienced a sense of puppy love for various men before in my small farm town but never quite like this. Mr. Bennett had managed to steal my heart upon first sight. Now, I was alone with my feelings.

It was not until I was fast asleep in the middle of the night when the door flung open once again. I woke in pleasant surprise when I spotted the sight of Brandon and hastily jumped to my feet. To my vast disappointment, a second man accompanied him at the door, wearing a frilled shirt. It was the same lead guard that I had seen back at my father’s home when it was searched. This man installed in me a sense of apprehension.

“Lady Mary,” he addressed me. His face looked old and tired with wrinkles around his eyes and his hair was silver in coloring. “My name is William and I am here to inform you that you are to be escorted to the king’s castle under his immediate demand.”

“Why?” I asked hastily.

“It has been determined that the tower is no longer a suitable location to house you. Here, you lack the safety from male advances and must therefore be removed for the maintaining of your integrity and for your pleasure.” I knew that Brandon had probably confided to him about my earlier provocative behavior. My “pleasure” probably had little to do with it, I considered dimly.

“What happened to my family?” I questioned William with urgency. Since he was present when my home had been invaded, he must have had an answer. “Please,” I begged. “Tell me! Where are my father and my brothers?”

“They committed treason,” William answered sharply, refusing to say more. The underlying hint in his tone told me what I needed to know. They had either been ostracized or executed, the logical conclusion. I could not choke down the lump in my throat when I thought of it this time. The reality was too real. Vomit escaped from my throat and splattered across the cold floor, startling the two men. I did not care if I looked horrid. My head was spinning.

“Where am I to go?” I asked when I had no more porridge left in my empty stomach to surface. “What are you going to do with me?”

“It has been decided,” William answered, “that you will be kept in proper quarters within the king’s castle. There you may also receive proper care from one of the king’s physicians as well.”

“Thank you,” I concluded, glad to be upgraded into a better housing situation than this dark cell.

“I must also inform you,” continued William, “due to the extremity of our dire situation, you must sacrifice certain rights. What I mean is, you must adapt to live in service of Baylin.”

“I understand.” I had already contemplated that this would be the case and I wanted to rush the process along so that I could rest in more comfortable conditions.

“Therefore,” he continued, “you must no longer be considered a civilian but, rather, property of the kingdom. You will relinquish any former titles. Your family name is to be stricken and, from this moment forward, you will be known only as Mary of Baylin. Do you understand?” Anger bubbled inside me at this. I knew that it was not customary for a woman to involve herself in the matters of men but, rather, to comply with orders. Proper women had to be humble and submissive. However, having been raised by men, I often found this societal rule difficult to obey. Perhaps if my mother had survived childbirth when she delivered me to the world, she would have influenced me to grow into a more compliant adult woman.

“My lord, I am more than willing to do whatever it takes to serve my kingdom. However, I will not, in good conscience, consent to having my title and individuality stripped! I am not property, I am a girl!” I protested. Something clicked within William as I watched his eyes narrow at my words. He approached me aggressively right then, grabbing both of my arms.

“You listen to me carefully,” he spoke furiously through gritted teeth, “the whole kingdom has lost mothers, daughters, sisters and wives. I, myself, held my little girl and watched as she slipped away in my arms. Surely you must recognize that the situation is greater than yourself!” he shook me as though he were trying to drive his point into me physically. “Mary, get it through your thick skull! You lost the right to your individuality when you became the last slither of hope for our kingdom.”

He released his hold on me and my arms felt sore from his grip. I knew there would be bruises there later. I had to take deep breaths to recover myself from his assertion. I could see now that William was a broken man not to be trifled with. His intimidation also forced me to realize that he was right. Baylin couldn’t afford for me to be selfish, especially not during this crucial time. My kingdom desperately needed me. This was my chance to be a savior, someone my father would have been proud of.

“Alright,” I submitted with a heavy sigh. “I understand.”

My body felt weak, trembling as I was escorted secretly in the night by a team of royal guards. Perhaps it was from vomiting or the nerves that rumbled in the pit of my stomach. They guided me down the narrow limestone steps of the tower. Brandon fled to my side once we were downstairs. His close proximity was soothing. He placed his index finger to his lips, gesturing for me to stay silent before we stepped outside of the tower.

I could see why they chose to take me in the middle of the night. The town was empty with all the citizens in their homes sleeping. There was no one to attempt to kidnap me. I happily took in the fresh, cool night air, inhaling deeply. The stars were twinkling brightly in the sky. Brandon grabbed my tiny wrist to guide me down a path. A torch in his other hand lit the way towards a road. I couldn’t help but feel the sparks rush through my veins at his touch. We headed hastily towards a grand carriage that awaited me. I immediately recognized the carriage as royal because, even in the dark, I could see that it was a deep brown with golden wheels. The carriage was being pulled by four glorious, white horses that had fur flowing over their large hooves.

For a brief moment my hand was in Brandon’s as he assisted me into the carriage. I wanted so badly to intertwine my fingers through his and never let go. Once I was inside, however, he pulled his hand sharply from mine and shut the door firmly. I could feel my heart sink from our speedy separation. Why did I feel this strongly so soon? My own feelings frightened me as much as the kingdom’s situation.

The seat inside the carriage was soft like silk with thick pillows for my comfort. I was now suddenly being accommodated like a royal princess. For some reason, however, it felt strangely unremarkable. Though I appreciated the change in my environmental scenery, this new accommodation didn’t feel special. Perhaps this was because I was only chosen for this treatment due to my status as the last woman, the last remaining option. It was an honor not earned through merit.

“Alright, gentlemen, let us go!” I heard William’s sharp voice command the carriage drivers outside. At once I felt the movement of the carriage lurch forward. During the ride, I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. I watched as the view of the tower faded with each passing stride of the horses’ hoof beats.

From the safety of the carriage, I was able to see first hand the reality of our kingdom’s dire situation as we passed through the town. Through the window I observed many bodies of lost women, wrapped respectfully and lovingly in white sheets with peddles of roses sprinkled over them. They could be seen commonly outside of homes under the flaming glow of street lanterns shining grimly upon their lifeless silhouettes. There were also bodies stacked on top of one another, piled on wooden carts being pulled by mules. It seemed that there weren’t enough burial places for the overwhelming amount of the dead. William had been right. The situation was truly greater than myself. I stared in stunned silence from behind the glass window, trying to breathe through the tension in my chest. While alone in the privacy of the carriage, I allowed the tears to escape and flow freely down my cheeks once more.

I had never before seen the king’s castle but it was just as grand as I had imagined it would be. By the time of arrival, the orange glow of sunrise gleamed upon its massive, limestone construction. Guards and soldiers could be seen everywhere, pacing the parameter. A bridge extended over a moat that encompassed the castle, leading to giant, metal gates that opened upon our arrival, allowing access for the carriage. Once within the castle’s exterior walls, a wide garden stretched across the front of the main entrance. The garden looked like it was once a breathtaking sight but was now largely unmaintained with weeds growing freely everywhere and grass increasing to wild heights. I guessed that décor was no longer a major priority. A large fountain was focused in the center with a decorative statue of a hawk with its wings spread out in preparation for flight.

A countless number of guards and soldiers huddled around the carriage as it slowed to a halt in front of the castle entrance. I lost my breath, overwhelmed. A crowd of noble others stood in a line, forming a path for me to walk across into the castle. Brandon was there to open my door and assisted me as I climbed out. This time he seemed to be wearing white gloves over his hands, which I found peculiar. I couldn’t tell whether or not it was part of his uniform or by design to avoid touching my skin again. I frowned at this.

I walked along the path into the castle, escorted by Brandon on one side and William joining me on the other. Other guards walked amongst us, surrounding me in a wall of protection against the spectators. The crowd was silent as they watched me. It was an eerie feeling.

Once inside, the foyer had a high ceiling with a massive chandelier hanging from it. William paced in a circle around me, glowering at my appearance. Having been staying in a prison dwelling over night, I imagined I did not look up-to-par with the surrounding environment.

“You are to be cleaned and prepped by our servant staff. You can’t represent Baylin as our last remaining female while looking like this.” He gestured with his hand at my appearance. “You will be handled with care and then we will move forward with your arrangements once you are presentable. The king is expected to arrive later this evening to meet you. He is holding a gathering this evening in your honor.” I should have been excited about meeting the king but instead, I was stuck on the “you are to be cleaned and prepped” part of William’s agenda.

“Wait, you mean to say that I am to be groomed by men?” I questioned.

“Yes, that is exactly what I am saying,” he reaffirmed.

“No that is madness!”

“Need I remind you that this is not up to you? There is more at stake here than a few men seeing you naked.”

I stared at the ground, feeling extremely uncomfortable by the idea. I was beginning to resent lord William. He clapped his hands and, at once, a small group of three male servants emerged from a nearby hallway. They were dressed in simple, loose fitting garb of woolen cloth. They were slender, feminine looking men. They immediately bowed low when they saw me as though I possessed the status equal to that of a queen or a royal princess. I wasn’t used to having anyone bow for me. It felt strange.

“You will wash Mary and make her presentable,” William ordered the men. “Brandon will go with you.”

“Yes, my lord” the servants agreed.

Brandon flashed a concerned glance at William.

“My lord, with all due respect, I don’t think I am needed for this rather, er, delicate task,” Brandon expressed his apprehension.

“Mr. Bennett,” William said to him firmly, “you have been assigned as her official protector. God forbid something happens to her in the bath that will cause the king to mount your head on a spike!” I observed the motion Brandon’s Adam’s apple as he swallowed a fearful knot in his throat. “You should have nothing to worry about. You have undergone significant training in the art of restraint.”

“Yes, my lord,” Brandon replied with a hint of angst.

I was taken into a large bathroom with a tub. The walls in this room were covered with mirrors and, for the first time in over 24 hours, I could actually see my reflection. I was appalled by the view. The girl in the mirror did not resemble me at all. Her skin was filthy with black dust sprinkled across her nose and cheeks. Her hair was a thick, matted ball of tangled mess. This girl had no business being inside a royal castle.

“Take off your clothes,” a servant said to me. I could see the tub filled with water that had steam radiating from it. The water looked hot and inviting but I was still hesitant to strip my clothes off in a room full of men. Before the women had died, it would have been customary for a woman to be washed by other ladies. What was happening here and now would have been considered wildly inappropriate. I supposed, however, that there was no other choice in this unusual circumstance. They couldn’t, after all, allow for a royal princess to wash herself.

“It’s okay, Mary, we’re just going to wash you. You need it,” the same servant reassured. I eyed Brandon who took a stance in the far corner of the room. He looked uncomfortable, gazing downward at the marble floor, afraid to look at me.

“May I at least know your names first? It might make me more comfortable” I requested. The three men gladly gave their names but I quickly forgot them as soon as they were spoken. The only name I remembered was Thomas’s because he seemed to be the leader of the two and he was the only one with red hair while the others were blonde.

“Alright, step into the tub now, my lady. I know this is unorthodox but please don’t worry,” Thomas assured. My eyes flashed to Brandon who was still sulking in the corner uncomfortably. I kept my eyes focused on him as I undressed and stepped into the bath. For some reason it eased my nerves when I pretended that he was the only man in the room.

The water was toasty warm, soothing against my gross, oily skin. As soon as I had submerged, the servants began scrubbing me with sponges. It took time to clean off all the excess dirt from my skin but a dominant part of me greatly enjoyed the human contact, the feeling of people taking care of me. Thomas washed my hair and it felt amazing to have his fingers scrubbing my scalp. His touch was almost like a woman’s, very angelic. There was an immense sense of relief to finally being clean again. Brandon continued to stand idly in the corner, actively trying not to show me eye contact. I could not resist the urge of glancing toward him at every chance I had.

The servants draped me in a thick towel and then guided me into a luxurious dressing room with white lace curtains over the windows, allowing for natural sunlight to glaze the white walls. Brandon followed and stood in the corner of that room as well. I was feeling more at ease amongst the servant men because they were starting to feel more like fellow women than actual men. The way Thomas and the others spoke sounded slightly more higher-pitched than the voices of other, more masculine men.

Thomas wrapped a corset around my abdomen. Usually, being somewhat plump was fashionable amongst the women in Baylin but I guessed that they wanted to exaggerate my figure now that I was the sole woman. It was as if they felt the need to prove my female status and show me off in order to highlight that there was still hope. Thomas tightened the corset so that my hips protruded outward more dramatically into an hourglass figure. It was then when I caught Brandon’s eyes focused intently on my body. He quickly glanced away when he saw that I noticed, his cheeks burning bright red. I liked that.

“Too tight,” I whined when Thomas pulled at the strings of my corset.

“Can you breathe?” he checked.

“No.”

“Good,” he confirmed laughingly. “You’re not supposed to.”

They dressed me in a beautiful, brown shimmering dress with long, flaring sleeves with a gold trim along the edges. On the chest was the Baylinian hawk, proudly displayed in golden fabric.

“This dress belonged to the late queen before she passed,” Thomas informed me somewhat mournfully. “It suits you well.”

“Thank you,” I said softly to him. “Do you miss her? The queen,” I wondered.

“Yes,” he admitted. “I miss the queen and looking after the princesses before they passed. I liked being a caretaker. I grew attached to them and felt the pain when they were taken by the plague.”

“I’m sorry…” was all I knew to say.

“It’s alright. Death is, unfortunately, a common theme during these dark times.”

“You’re right…”

Brandon took a step towards me from the corner – a seemingly unconscious maneuver – while the servants worked to untangle the knots in my hair. We locked eyes and this time, he didn’t glance away. I was able to peer deeply into the ocean of blue hinted with green that was gleaming back at me attentively now. His mental barrier of distance seemed nearly obsolete in this instant. He looked… willing. My heart was a flutter. A moment later, we were interrupted when Thomas decided to adjust my posture. He pulled my shoulders back sharply.

“Straighten your back, my lady,” he ordered. “You slouch like a peasant or a farmer’s daughter.”

“I am a farmer’s daughter – or, rather, I used to be,” I deliberated with a sting of sadness.

“Well, you’re not anymore. You must now maintain the proper behavioral standards of a royal princess,” Thomas lectured.

I caught sight of Brandon in the corner, rubbing the temples along his forehead. I supposed it could not have been easy for him. I could tell now he returned some affection for me even if only a little. But, after all, I was off limits.

Thomas and the other two servants spent what felt like hours untangling the knots in my hair as it dried into naturally thick, wavy curls of honey gold. After they placed the finishing touch, a pearl necklace around my neck, I took another look at my reflection in a mirror that was located in the opposite corner of the dressing room from where Brandon stood. I stared at myself, stunned by the dramatic difference. No longer did I resemble a prisoner from the tower. Now, I looked the part of a royal princess. Princess Mary of Baylin. Princess by default, I considered since there were no other women to fill the role.

“Is she not stunning? My work is complete,” Thomas sang happily.

“Beautiful,” Brandon agreed as he gazed upon me admiringly. I could tell he was increasingly struggling to maintain his barrier. It was weakening. “I mean –” he corrected, clearing his throat, “You look ready to represent our country.” He then bowed respectfully and exited through the door to lead me through the hallway, shielding the red glow of his cheeks with his hands.

“I believe the gentleman likes you,” Thomas whispered into my ear with a hint of humor in his tone. I did not realize that Brandon’s gazes had been obvious to anyone but me. I suddenly feared for his safety.

“No, he is just polite,” I denied, hoping to steer Thomas away from suspicion.

“It’s alright,” he assured in a hushed whisper, “I won’t tell anyone.” I nodded, flashing him a thankful look. Before I could follow Brandon through the door, Thomas grabbed my arm and pulled me so that his lips were to my ear. He whispered, “You have more power than you think,” before he released me.