The Nurse's Resolve
The clash of metal and hideous screams echoed through the gardens inside Venterum Castle. Virginia startled at the sound and dropped the needle she had been holding. Fortunately, it did not prick her hand, and the needle that had fallen onto the embroidery frame was not difficult to find. She let out a sigh and turned her gaze toward the balcony outside.
A small-statured man was savagely beating a tall, gaunt man. Her eyes, dimmed with age, could not make out much else, but the identities of the pair were obvious even without a closer look. The smaller man was undoubtedly Queen Richelle dressed in men's clothing, and the tall, thin man had to be Prince Consort Marion. She had to suppress the impulse surging within her. That impulse was to rush straight to Richelle and shout at her to stop such rough behavior. But she could not do that.
She had to remain Queen Richelle's greatest ally. If she could not do so everywhere, then at least within Venterum Castle she must. The events of the past few days had left her mind in such turmoil that she could barely endure it.
She had stormed into Richelle's bedchamber, determined once and for all to root out the girl's tomboyish ways. But she could not follow through.
The words Richelle had spoken with a face on the verge of tears had enraged her to the very core. After losing her own daughter, she had raised the princess as if she were her own. Because she was the daughter of the queen she revered, in some ways Virginia cherished her even more than her own child. The days spent raising Richelle could never be called smooth. The girl had been a tomboy, a walking disaster, and utterly disobedient; she had given Virginia more than her share of heartache. Yet no matter how much trouble she caused, Virginia had never once hated Richelle. It went without saying that she had never wished any harm upon her. A nurse's heart simply wanted to give her only good things.
That was why, despite being looked down upon for her lowly origins as the daughter of a rural knight, despite being scorned simply for being a woman, she had sought out noble ladies and scholars of etiquette. She had learned everything there was to know about child-rearing and proper conduct, all so she could teach Richelle.
Virginia flung open the door to Marion's bedchamber with force. There stood Prince Consort Marion, pale-faced and hunched over, struggling to catch his breath. His pale features were twisted with worry. The sight only fueled her anger further. He was staring into a mirror, fretting over his own face. Rage surged through her from head to toe.
She strode toward him almost at a run. Marion looked at her with a puzzled expression and said,
“Dame Virginia? What brings you—”
A sharp slap rang out inside the bedchamber. The sound was so loud one might have imagined it would echo through the entire wing. Marion tumbled to the floor from the force of Virginia's slap.
“I never thought you could be so cowardly, Prince Consort Marion!”
Marion's head was ringing so violently he could barely stand. He asked her,
“What is the matter? Why on earth—?”
“You dare ask as if you don't know?”
“I truly don't, Dame Virginia!”
When she seized his collar and raised her hand again, he spoke desperately. He lifted his arms to shield his face, but Virginia paid no heed and struck him squarely across the cheek.
“I knew you disliked my lady, but to do such a thing to your own wife! To Her Majesty the Queen! How could you—!”
“Ow! Ow!”
Marion wanted to explain, but he could not find the slightest opening. This nurse possessed terrifying strength. He wondered if Richard's formidable arm strength had come from drinking her milk as a child. Gritting his teeth against the pain that felt as if his arm might snap, Marion noticed that Virginia's blows were gradually weakening. Her strikes grew slower, more hesitant.
Peering through the gap in his arms, he stole a glance at her. She had stopped hitting him and now wore an expression on the verge of tears. When she opened her mouth, her voice burst forth at the same moment tears spilled from her eyes.
“How could you… how could you do that to my lady…!”
“…What exactly have you heard to make you react this way?”
“I don't want to hear it! No matter how much you dislike our young mistress, this is too much! To commit adultery on your very first night of marriage, and when caught, to forcibly ravish her… that delicate, fragile soul… how could you!”
Taking advantage of the pause in her slapping, he straightened his posture. He spoke carefully.
“There seems to be a misunderstanding, Dame Virginia.”
“What misunderstanding? Don't even think of offering cowardly excuses.”
“Very well. I will not lie to you either. It is true that one of the maids entered my bed. That much is understandable to misinterpret.”
“And you think that makes it acceptable?”
Virginia thrust her face close to his. Though he towered over her, her ferocity was overwhelming. Marion took a step back from her oppressive gaze before answering.
“No. It was absolutely not acceptable. But it was not adultery.”
“How can that possibly—”
“It can. Because she crawled into my bed on her own. I did not drag her in.”
Marion's expression was serious, his eyes completely steady. Strangely, it was Virginia who faltered at his demeanor. Marion carried himself with an oddly confident air. And when his next words followed, the strangeness only grew.
“Moreover, I did not rape him.”
“‘Him’?”
Virginia's brow furrowed at his choice of words. “No matter how unladylike my mistress may be, I would appreciate it if you did not refer to her as a man.”
Marion corrected himself in a fluster.
“My apologies. But His Majesty the King—”
“Ahem! Hm!”
Virginia folded her arms and cleared her throat, cutting him off. “Her Majesty the Queen is so lovable that I could not restrain myself.”
“Do you perhaps prefer men, Prince Consort Marion?”
Marion let out a dry laugh and replied, “Hardly. From the past until now, I have only ever been attracted to women.”
“…It is rather embarrassing for me to say this, but you find our tomboyish young mistress lovable?”
“Of course, Dame Virginia. She is—”
This time he managed to speak without offending her sensibilities. “Her Majesty the Queen overflows with vitality, and above all, she is beautiful.”
When he praised Richelle's beauty, Virginia's mood softened and she unfolded her arms. She wiped the remaining tears from the corners of her eyes with her sleeve and said,
“Our young mistress is indeed the most beautiful in all the world. But she dresses and behaves so much like a man?”
“Hm.”
Marion smiled as if he could not help but find it amusing and said, “It seems Dame Virginia does not understand a man's heart. When a woman is that beautiful, a slightly fiery temperament is nothing at all. It is like—yes, exactly like how thorns do not diminish the grace of a rose.”
“I do not believe that is what the thorns of a rose are meant to symbolize.”
“Let us simply say it is similar. I rather like that expression, Dame Virginia.”
His answer did not entirely satisfy her. But at least she now knew he had not acted out of malice toward Richelle, so she had nothing more to say. Still wearing a somewhat displeased expression, yet with a voice far gentler than before, she told him,
“If you truly care for her, express those feelings in the proper way, Prince Consort Marion. I will never permit you to treat my lady so roughly.”
“Of course, Dame.”
“You said I do not understand a man's heart, did you not?”
“I did.”
Marion answered and waited for her next words. She said,
“Then you must not wound a woman's heart either.”
At those words, his expression twisted subtly. Nevertheless, he replied to her with courtesy.
“…That too, of course.”
Leaving his somewhat unsettling answer behind, she left his chamber.
“Good day to you, Dame Virginia.”
A man called out to Virginia as she crossed the castle courtyard on her way back to her own room. When she turned toward the sound, she saw a simple table and chair that had not been there before. Seated in the chair was a man with a thick, neatly trimmed brown beard. She confirmed the identity of the speaker. It was none other than King Philip of Derim, held captive within Venterum Castle.
She offered a polite greeting.
“Good day to you, Your Majesty King Philip.”
“Where are you hurrying off to in such a rush?”
“Did I appear to be in a rush?”
She smiled as she spoke. “Raising Lady Richelle—no, Her Majesty the Queen—has left me with the habit of always rushing about, it seems.”
Philip nodded vigorously in agreement. He remarked that her boundless energy could sometimes be exhausting, then gestured to the other chair.
“How about it? If you are not too busy, would you care to sit and enjoy the view while we converse?”
“Pardon?”
“It seems a shame to enjoy the beautiful scenery of Venterum Castle all by myself.”
“Is it beautiful?”
At King Philip's words, she turned her gaze in the direction he was looking. It was indeed quite a splendid view. Venterum's High Castle had been built, as its name suggested, atop a very high hill on the outskirts of Milehaven, granting the front courtyard an excellent panorama. The castle walls that should have blocked the view had, through several renovations, taken on the role of additional quarters instead. Beyond the now much lower walls—still called the “front walls” due to Zylan's characteristic conservatism—the mist was lifting from the Constagel River, revealing the busy traffic of countless merchant ships.
The garden within the walls was vast and impeccably maintained. It was large enough to house an entire battalion, yet much of it remained filled with rare and beautiful flowering trees.
“What do you think? Seeing it again like this, is it not a truly beautiful sight?”
“Indeed. I suppose I had grown so used to it that I no longer noticed its beauty.”
“Is that so?”
Philip picked up a cup from the table, took a sip of its contents, and said, “It is a very small and charming garden.”
“Small and charming?”
Virginia was taken aback. Venterum's High Castle was larger and more majestic than any she had ever seen, yet this foreign king was calling it “small and charming.” She tried to imagine just how enormous the royal residence of Derim's king must be, then eventually gave up. Instead, she asked Philip,
“But I am merely a nurse. Why would Your Majesty wish to speak with me?”
“You are not merely a nurse, Dame Virginia. You are the nurse of my dearest friend.”
“…It is an honor, Your Majesty.”
“What do you say, Dame Virginia?”
He gestured lightly across the table. “Shall we enjoy the view together while drinking some fruit juice?”
“I am sorry, Your Majesty, please forgive my rudeness. I am grateful for the invitation, but I do not believe I have any reason to sit beside you.”
“Then how about a toast?”
This time he produced a ceramic bottle of wine from beneath his chair. “To celebrate the ascension of Zylan's Queen Richelle?”
“You certainly came prepared.”
She burst into laughter and sat down in the chair Philip had prepared. “If you put it that way, how could I possibly refuse?”