The Heiress of Baylin

The sky was growing darker as dusk threatened over the horizon. Our horse was becoming increasingly agitated, eager for rest. We came across what appeared to be a small, village church, located precariously in a clearing within the forest. It looked old and almost abandoned with weeds growing along the outer walls of the building’s limestone structure.

“Are you sure we should go in there?” I asked Brandon.

“No but I’m not sure where else to go. We need shelter for the night.” I couldn’t argue. The muscles in my thighs were weakening from having to cling my legs around the horse for too long.

“Okay.”

Brandon slid off the horse first and then turned to assist me by lifting me effortlessly by my waist. He planted me gently to my feet and then lovingly kissed my forehead. He tied the horse to a nearby tree that was next to a small brook, keeping the reins loose enough for the animal to freely graze the grass or drink from the stream.

“Stay behind me,” he cautioned as we approached the building. I obeyed, holding on to the back of Brandon’s shirt as he maneuvered cautiously to peer through the open door. He pulled his sword from his belt, holding it in front of him just in case.

“Hello?” Brandon called out to anyone who might be inside.

“Oh, hello, young man,” replied a voice. A man wearing a brown, hooded gown emerged. He was a friar evident by the cross he wore around his neck. He had a long, gray beard and a kind face with smile wrinkles. His eyes were smiling, welcoming as he greeted Brandon. Relief washed over me at the man’s friendly appearance. Brandon returned his sword to his belt.

“Good, holy man of God, we seek sanctuary in this place,” Brandon explained to him, stepping to one side so that the man could see me. The friar looked stunned not only because I was female but also because my blood stained gown was shocking at first glance.

“Oh, my!” he gasped. “Yes! Yes, of course, my children. I pray you come in at once!” The inside of the old church was small but quant with stained glass windows and seats along an aisle that lead to a statue of Christ at the end. It held a charming scent like that of Damascus Rose. “What has happened, my children?” the friar asked us, eyeing the blood on my dress.

“A man tried to attack her,” Brandon explained while excluding the details of who this man was, the prince of Estria.

“Are you hurt madam?” he asked me.

“No, tis’ not my blood,” I assured him.

“Oh thank be to God! May I fetch you some fresh clothes? I do not possess anything as flattering to your form as that dress but I can give you a robe for the time being.”

I nodded.

While the friar stepped into another room to fetch me a garment, I eyed the room, which radiated with spirituality. Standing in here with Brandon felt right, like it was meant to be. I caught his gaze on me and reveled in the fact that he, once again, did not glance away. He seemed less anxious now and more elated. He took a step towards me, eyes intent on mine. He placed a hand upon my cheek and caressed it with his thumb. His touch was warm, soothing against my skin. I wanted him to lean in to kiss me. He looked as though he were about to do this before the friar returned with my robe.

“Here you are, my lady,” he said, handing me a spare robe.

“Thank you, father.”

“I am so sorry that you were attacked. The men seem to have been driven mad with desire across this realm since the loss of all those women, God bless their souls! Celibacy is an immense relief at a time such as this.”

“Will she be safe here?” Brandon wanted to ensure.

“I do not see why she wouldn’t be. This is a secluded area. I have only been receiving occasional visitors as of late. Many men are in mourning from having lost loved ones. But I will do everything in my power to keep you hidden for as long as you need. You are also under God’s protection.”

“Thank you, father.”

“Young man, are you a member of the royal guard?” he asked Brandon, judging by his uniform.

“I am.”

“Tell me, is she truly the last woman?” he inquired, pointing to me.

“Yes, she is. There are no women left.”

“Oh, my! That is grave indeed…”

“Yes,” Brandon agreed.

“So then, are you telling me that this is Mary? The Mary of Baylin?”

“I am,” I confirmed, cutting in. I did not like it when the men had conversations about me while I was in the room.

“Oh, my! Well then, I am most happy to oblige with anything that you need.”

I nodded in appreciation before stepping into the little room where the friar had grabbed the robe. Inside there was only a lone single bed and a dresser. I closed the door behind me and stripped from my dress to slip on the robe in its place. I could see what he meant by the outfit not being flattering. It was bulky and not exactly fit-to-form. I felt ridiculous in it. Still, I was grateful to shed that tyrant prince of Estria’s blood from my body. I could also use the hood to hide my face and at least the robe would hide my feminine physique from any stray others who may be lurking around these woods.

Brandon chuckled at me when I walked back into the main chapel. I laughed along with him, realizing how I must have outwardly appeared. The moment was light, filled with humor. Even the friar joined in the laughter at my outfit.

“You see my children, God has not abandoned our land. He is here with us now. Can you not feel his presence in your laughter?”

“I can,” Brandon replied, eyeing me lovingly. I gazed downward, my cheeks flushing again and a smile forced its way across my face. That’s when Brandon requested something that made my heart soar like never before.

“My heart has fallen upon this fair maiden. I pray, father, that you consent to marry us,” Brandon asked almost pleadingly, which was immensely flattering.

“If it be love then I will unite you,” he answered happily. Brandon and I exchanged a glance, both of us overjoyed.

“My love,” Brandon addressed me, “do you consent?”

“Yes of course! You need not ask. You know of my feelings for you.”

“Then I shall gladly perform the ceremony.”

“At once I pray,” Brandon pleaded, “for I cannot wait any longer. I love this maiden more than life itself.”

“Yes, of course. May I first have a word with the lady?”

“Yes, of course you may,” replied Brandon. The friar took me back into his room, closing the door behind him.

“My child,” he said to me, “Are you certain you wish to marry this man? He seems like a worthy gentleman but surely you must realize that you possess many options, more so than any woman has ever had before. You may be eligible in this climate to unite with a duke or even a prince. Are you absolutely certain you love this guard?”

Given today’s events, I almost laughed at this. This morning I thought I would be marrying either the king of Baylin or the prince of Estria. Now here I was, about to marry the man who made me happy, the one who made every inch of me tickle with desire. I was almost glad that events transpired the way that they did. God had let me off the hook from my duty and released me to follow my own personal happiness. I smiled widely at the friar who looked at me with a certain, puzzled expression.

“I can assure you, father, that I am most happy. I have no doubt that this is the man I wish to marry with all my heart and soul.” He smiled at me in response and I could see a spark in his eye that told me he was genuinely touched by my words.

“Then nothing would please me more than to unite you both. Come, make haste and let us begin. If you don’t mind, I would like to do the job quickly because I’m not leaving you two alone until you are united in holy matrimony!” His words implied that he was worried we would sin by having premarital intercourse. I felt a tiny twinge of guilt since it was already too late to prevent that.

We rejoined Brandon who was anxiously waiting by the statue of Christ. Candlelight illuminated the room, shining upon his face with such beauty. The sight of him was enough to take my breath away. My eyes swelled. Brandon stroked my face affectionately, wiping away an escaped tear.

“What is the matter, my love?”

“Nothing. It’s just a tear of joy, Brandon,” I reassured him. He smiled widely, exposing his dazzling teeth.

The friar united us in a beautiful ceremony. It was loving and spiritual as well as private. I could almost feel God’s approval through the glowing feeling inside of me.

“I do,” Brandon’s voice chimed like the ring from a bell. The friar continued with the vows until it was my turn to speak.

“I do,” I stated without hesitation.

Upon finalization, the friar drew a cross in the air with his hand while reciting, “In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.” Now it was done. We were married. I was Mrs. Mary Bennett.

Brandon lifted me with joy and spun me around. He held me in his arms and eagerly pressed his lips to mine. I locked my lips with his, clutching my arms around his neck. Whatever dangers the future held, I allowed myself the liberty of having this moment to be carefree and rejoice in my happiness. Brandon and I were united as one and this was a joining that could be undone by no man. He was officially mine.

“Mrs. Bennett,” he whispered gleefully in my ear. “Now you are mine and I am yours.”

“Forever,” I agreed.

The friar informed us of an abandoned shack in the woods nearby. It was a barn with a stack of hay that he claimed looked comfortable for sleeping on. He also described the place as being, “unaesthetic yet charming.” Since we didn’t want to sleep on hard, wooden church seats on our wedding night, we decided to give his suggestion a try. Brandon guided us through the dark woods, holding up a lantern to light the way. A dirt pathway led us there. The friar was right to call it unaesthetic but it was definitely not charming. It was filthy and shabby. Still, I took rest uneasily in the hay that may or may not have housed rats. Compared to sleeping in quarters fit for a queen, it was difficult to adjust to these conditions but yet somewhat similar to the prison environment that I had endured in the tower. Brandon looked around, examining the structure while we were situated together in the hay.

“You know, I think I can make this work, Mary.”

“You can make what work?”

“This shack. All it needs is some fixing. I can make this a home for us.” I laughed at his suggestion. This place was a dump! How could it be a home? “Why not? I’m really good with projects like these. Trust me.”

“What if we are found? Shouldn’t we remain on the run just in case?”

“This place is well hidden. I doubt we would be found. We can live our quiet life in the country the way we want,” he rationalized.

I nodded and curled up over his chest so that I wasn’t lying completely in the hay. His body worked as an effective buffer. It was a peaceful evening with the music of crickets chirping from the outside. As dumpy as this shack was, it was also sort of romantic in a way. Still, I wondered about something that was lingering in the back of my mind.

“Sweetheart,” I started.

“Yes, my love?”

“Do you still think I still have dignity after I was willing to offer myself to the prince like a whore?”

Brandon turned me on my side to examine my face.

“Where did that question come from?”

“I don’t know… I was just wondering.”

“Quite the contrary, Mary. I honored you for your bravery in wanting to do what was right for our kingdom. You’re not a whore and don’t ever call yourself that. You are my wife now, understand?”

I nodded, smiling with contentment over his answer.

“And I have to say,” he added with humor, “You really do have stunning legs. You had all those men in the Estrian army driven mad. Your distraction efforts worked wonders for our side.”

I blushed at that, chuckling lightly in response.

The following day, Brandon started working on the shack. He found an old ax and chopped down a tree to make wood. I enjoyed watching him at first but then I left to take care of a few tasks of my own. I returned to the friar’s church to retrieve my dress that I left and I took it to the brook to try and scrub the blood off of it. The blood was as stubborn to get off as its owner had been.

“How did you enjoy the shack last night?” the asked me while he was feeding the horse a bag of grains.

“It was… rustic,” I answered with a laugh. “My new husband is thinking to turn it into a home for us.”

“Oh, how wonderful!” he rejoiced. “I suppose we’re neighbors now.”

“Don’t be too hasty in congratulating us. I am uncertain whether he will actually be successful in this endeavor.” This made him laugh.

“Don’t underestimate a man with ambition,” he said humorously.

After a few days, I began to develop a routine. Everyday I would wash our clothes in the stream, visit with the friar if he was not otherwise being visited and in the evenings, I would cook the kill that Brandon provided after a hunt. I made a fire outside our shack with which to roast the meat. Brandon continued his efforts on the structure daily. I was quickly growing happy here as we developed this little piece of bliss. I could almost forget the madness occurring in the world around us.

On one clear day while the sun was shining brightly in the sky and Brandon was laboring on the shack, I felt completely at ease. The day seemed so perfect. There was a grassy patch in the midst of the trees where the light shined gently across it. It looked so inviting, so private. With my husband as the only soul nearby in this moment, I felt compelled to strip from my clothing and let my skin soak the warmth of this spot. I took to the soft grass, sprawling across it. My eyes closed, letting the feeling consume me. I stretched my arms and legs, embracing the moment. A moan escaped my breath.

When my husband’s hammering silenced, I reopened my eyes with alarm. I glanced over to see why he’d stopped. That’s when I saw him frozen, his eyes focused on me lustfully and his mouth hanging wide open. He looked so masculine now with his long sleeves pulled back passed his elbows and his white shirt drenched with sweat. He also had stubble along his chin and his jaw. My feeling of alarm washed away, replaced by my own feeling of lust. I bit my lip as I stared at him and this seemed to compel him to abandon his project for a moment. He sauntered toward me and, like a hunter to its pray, he pounced on me. He locked his lips to mine ferociously. I wrapped my arms and legs tightly around him and squealed with delight.

To my astonishment, after about a week of Brandon’s hard work and manual labor, the shack actually looked livable.

“It’s not finished yet but look inside,” Brandon ordered me excitedly. I obliged, peering in. To my pleasant surprise, the shack now looked as appealing as a small, cozy cottage. He’d even built some furniture and a place to store food. A blanket was spread over a bed that he had constructed.

“Oh my goodness!” I gasped, stepping inside. The place reminded me of my father’s home in the country where I grew up. “This is perfect! Where did you get the sheet?” I wondered, pointing to the blanket.

“The friar gave it to us as a wedding gift. I’m so glad you like it.”

I ran into Brandon to give him a tightly squeezed hug.

“We have our own home!” I exclaimed excitedly.

“And look what I hung on the wall,” Brandon pointed out. I looked to see that Brandon had tore up his Baylin guard uniform and turned it into a sort of banner that he displayed on the wall. I cupped my hand over my mouth. The banner was perfect with the hawk visible and the brown and gold colors of Baylin popping within the fabric. “It’s to represent the kingdom that we both love. The significance of it remains strong as long as we maintain it in our hearts.”

“It’s perfect!” I enthused.

Brandon held me tight in his arms and kissed me feverishly. We were now a married couple with our own home in the woods, free to live a peaceful life together. Nothing could have been better than this. He tossed me onto the bed that was stuffed with the hay we had previously slept on, surprisingly more comfortable now. We sealed our lips to one another and embraced each other passionately throughout the rest of the night.

The next morning I walked the short distance towards the friar’s church. Typically, Brandon was hammering away to perfect the structure of our home or out on a hunt for our dinner. Thus, I was often bored during the day so the friar kept me company when he was not otherwise occupied. I had to hide when I arrived today, however. To my surprise, a group of Estrian guards dressed in their usual red and black uniforms had greeted the friar outside the front of his church. Thankfully I was wearing one of the friar’s cloaks so I pulled the hood over my head to keep my face hidden in shadow. I overheard their conversation from my hiding place behind a tree.

“We are making our rounds to inform everyone that your Baylin king has been killed in battle. Therefore, this land now belongs to Estria by right of conquest. Anyone who does not consent to following the laws of our king will be tried for treason. Do you comply?”

I cupped a hand over my mouth, stunned. Estria had won the battle? Our king was dead? I stood frozen in disbelief.

“Yes, my lords,” the friar replied. “Of course, whatever you say.” I could not blame him for giving in. These guards were scary and it was not the duty of a holy man to fight. It was easier to comply with them than to face the risk of execution.

“Good,” one of the guards approved of his response.

“You there!” shouted another guard upon seeing me. Oh, no, I thought with fear, I’ve been discovered! I thought I was surely in trouble until he then shouted, “Boy! Come hither!” I sighed with relief that he thought I was a boy. The bulkiness of the cloak effectively hid my physique. I walked over hesitantly, pulling the hood further over my face so that they couldn’t easily examine my feminine features. The friar looked uneasy, knowing the hidden truth about my identity. Still, he played along as if I were a male.

“Young man, you must have overheard our announcement just now. Pray tell us, do you consent?” One of the guards questioned me.

“Yes,” I tried to make my voice sound husky. They laughed upon hearing me. By cheeks burned bright crimson. I was embarrassed as well as apprehensive.

“The boy squawks like a mouse!” the guard exclaimed humorously.

“He is still growing into manhood, my lords,” the friar feigned an explanation.

“Does this boy work for you?” he questioned.

“Yes, he is my young apprentice.”

“Well, good for you, boy! Ambition at such a young age is always something to be proud of. Pray, take these to hang over your doors. Everyone is required to demonstrate their loyalty,” the guard said, handing us Estrian banners. They displayed the signature black and red with a fox in the center. I took it with the idea that I would use it for kindling to fuel the fire later.

“Well, we ought to be going now. We have more rounds to make. Before we part though, have any of you seen a woman pass by here? Yes, an actual woman. She was to be betrothed to our prince but he has been murdered. Now she is to marry the king, our gracious lord and master.”

“No, I have not,” answered the friar. “I am grieved to hear of the prince. May his soul rest in peace within the kingdom of heaven.” I secretly hoped for an opposite fate for that man.

The guards then turned to me for an answer. I simply shook my head in response, wanting to speak as little as possible. Thankfully and without the slightest hint of suspicion, they then parted, mounting their horses and riding off. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief once they were out of sight.

“That was close!”

“What do you mean? They didn’t suspect anything,” I protested.

“My lady, you must exercise caution about venturing over here in future. I would not wish you to be found out.”

“I know. I was lucky though. They didn’t see through the disguise.” The friar nodded at this point but then added to it.

“Next time you may not be as lucky.”

Later that evening in our cottage home, I confided in Brandon about what had transpired outside the church.

“You mean to say that our gold king is dead?” Brandon questioned, as stunned as I was by the news.

“Yes,” I confirmed. Brandon took a seat on a chair, cupping his hand over his mouth.

“Oh, my God…” he murmured.

“I know…”

“Well, at least his suffering has ended.”

“His suffering?” I wondered.

“He loved her, the queen. When she died he never quite recovered.”

“Perhaps that is why he never proposed to me,” I said thoughtfully.

“Yeah, he was not ready to move on. He was only going to marry you out of obligation.”

“I’m glad he didn’t. I wasn’t prepared to marry him. I didn’t love him.”

“I know you didn’t. I could tell.”

I took a seat on Brandon’s lap and he wrapped both arms around me.

“I love you,” I told him.

“I know you do,” he replied before kissing my cheek. I squealed, overjoyed by the small contact. I loved any time when he touched or kissed me. “Now that the king is dead, I suppose that makes you queen. You were declared his female heiress to the throne. Since he had no sons, you are - by default - the queen of Baylin. I’m married to a queen…”

“Sweetheart,” I said placing a hand on his shoulder, “There is no more Baylin. Our homeland has been taken over by Estria, defeated.” I almost shed a tear as the realization of my words kicked in. Brandon shook his head, released me from his hold and stood up from his sitting position to pace across the room.

“Mary, there are a lot of men who are fiercely loyal to the Baylin flag. A rebellion would not be hard to formulate. You must exercise more caution than ever not to be discovered. If you were to be found, you might be asked to lead Baylin fighters in battle.”

I considered this for a moment. A sense of duty clicked within me again. Perhaps this was the way I was supposed to serve my kingdom, by leading a revolt as a queen. It would be extremely risky though, I considered. If I were queen that would make Brandon the new king. He would be the subject of envy and a prime target for assassination. Many might seek to take his place as my husband and I did not wish to put him in the path danger. In addition, I was quickly growing accustom to our new life of peace. I wasn’t entirely sure that I wanted to give this up now that I had found sanctuary and happiness with him here.

“Hopefully it won’t come to that. However, if it does, I may feel obligated to do what is right,” I explained.

“I know, my love. I adore that about you. I only urge you to be careful. I want to keep you safe. I am, after all, your official protector in sickness and in health.”

I stepped towards him and wrapped my arms lovingly around his neck. I wasn’t as worried about my own safety as I was for his. He smiled at me before leaning in for a kiss.

“I love you,” I uttered when we parted our lips to take a breath.

“Oh, Mary. I love you too. Always.”

Only about two months into our marriage, I noticed that my monthly bleeding had skipped. This frightened me. I wished that I had the company of another woman to talk to, someone who had gone through the experience of pregnancy to tell me what it was like. I felt nervous, not sure what to expect. With no one else to turn to, I went to the friar for advice.

“Well that’s wonderful! Have you told your husband yet?” The friar rejoiced in my news.

“Not yet. I’m scared.”

“Why are you scared, my child? This is great news! He will be so pleased.”

“I’m scared because I’ve never been with child before...”

“Oh, dear, I understand. But realize that women went through this for millennia. You’re not the first and if you’re carrying a girl, you may not be the last.”

“Yes but, my mother died while having me. What if I die too? What if my daughter dies from the plague?”

The friar placed a gentle hand over my shoulder, guiding me for a stroll through the forest. He had such a soothing, fatherly presence. It was comforting.

“My lady,” he said to me, “You already cheated death once. God allowed you to survive from the great plague that wiped out your sex. What makes you think he will let you go in this manner? Clearly you are under his wing.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“As for a daughter, I’m sure that with your blood in her veins, she’d be immune to the disease as well.” I nodded at his words. They were comforting and made sense. “Now, instead of wasting your time with me, go find your husband. Tell him the happy news.”

“I will. Thank you, father.”

“Of course! Anytime, my child.”

I took off into a run toward the cottage.

“Don’t exert yourself, my lady!” the friar shouted after me. I immediately slowed to a fast walk in response, annoyed that I couldn’t run because of how anxious I was now to tell Brandon the news.

I was about halfway home when I encountered a little peasant boy on the trail. He looked to me and his eyes went wide. To my horror, I realized that my hood was down so my face was exposed and my long, golden hair was freely blowing in the breeze. Oh no! I had been discovered. The boy immediately bolted away, probably to go inform others. Oh, no… Oh, no.

“Wait!” I shouted after him. “Please! Don’t…” my voice trailed off. He wasn’t coming back. “Shit,” I murmured to myself. I continued on my walk toward the cottage. Now I would have to tell Brandon two pieces of news, both good and bad. Hopefully the boy’s dad would not believe him.

“My love,” Brandon greeted me upon my arrival. “I bought some clothes from a nearby village. I could not buy you any dresses or anything for obvious reasons. I didn’t want the merchants to be suspicious. But I did get you some fabric that you can make into dresses. I’m sure you must be tired of wearing the friar’s robe all the time. What do you think?” he held up the material for me to see.

“I love it,” I said flatly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sensing something off in my voice.

“I am with child,” I told him. Brandon immediately dropped the items to the wooden floor. His face lifted into the most elated smile that I had ever seen, his dimples strong in his cheeks. Clearly, he was overjoyed by the news. His happiness was contagious, making me smile in return.

“That is wonderful! Oh, my dear, this makes me so happy! I am so deliriously happy!” He lifted me into his arms, holding me tightly and lovingly. “I promise to be a good father. I will keep both you and our child safe. I will.”

“I know. I have no doubt you’ll be an excellent father,” I told him.

“I love you. I love you so much,” he said repeatedly, kissing me all over my cheek. I flushed, unable to contain the happiness from his excited embrace. I loved that he was happy over my condition. The next words out of Brandon’s mouth came out so fast and without stopping to take a breath, “What do you suppose it’ll be, a boy or a girl? Oh I suppose you can’t know. How silly of me for asking. Oh, I hope it’s a girl! I want her to look just like you!”

“I don’t wish for a girl,” I told him.

“Why not? She’d have her choice of all the men in the world. She’d help in saving human civilization as we know it.”

“She’d be in constant danger like I am,” I explained, remembering the boy in the forest who knew my secret. We would probably have to expect company shortly.

“But you’ve managed to go undetected for months. I’m sure our daughter would be safe here too,” Brandon rationalized. “This is a good home that I’ve made for us, hidden and secure.”

“Sweetheart, there’s something I need to tell you…”

He placed me back gently to my feet.

“Yes, of course. What is it, my love?”

“A boy saw me on my way over here. He ran off. I think he went to tell others of my whereabouts.”

Brandon took a step back, uneasy. He glared wide at the floor with worry.

“What are we going to do?” I asked him. After a moment of deliberation, he returned his gaze to me, the stress in his expression was masked by a seemingly feigned calm.

“I’ll tell you what you’re going to do. You are not going to worry about anything, my love. You just rest and take it easy with our child in your belly. Leave everything else in my care.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes,” he assured but I found it hard to be convinced. He wrapped his arms back around me, pressing my face into his chest. “Leave everything to me,” he repeated soothingly. He placed a hand over the back of my head, softly stroking my hair like nothing was wrong but he fell silent. I could tell he was thinking, trying to devise a plan. I felt remorse that he was in this position, having to defend a lone woman against a world of men. It seemed unfair that the burden be upon his shoulders alone.

“Everything will be fine,” he chanted and I wished with my every breath that I could believe it.