Ever After (Unfinished Fairy Tales #3)(90)
It seems like an eternity until the door opens. My stomach growls after an hour or so, but I ignore it. In my head, I rehearse what I should say to the king. When the meeting is over, the ministers file out of the room, most of them looking weary and frustrated. Some of them notice me and frown, a few nod at me politely, but none speak.
The servant emerges from the chamber. “The king will see you.”
I let out a sigh of relief. Smoothing my hair and straightening the wrinkles in my skirt, I step inside.
The king is lounging on his huge golden chair in the middle of the room, his forehead creased. He rests his head on one hand, his eyes closed, a weary expression on his face. I have a brief thought this will be Edward’s future, when he raises his head.
“It’s you.”
“Your Majesty.” I curtsy deeply. He waves me to a chair.
“I had expected that the next time we meet, I would be welcoming you back as my daughter-in-law.” He drums his fingers on the arm of his chair. “What spell have you cast on my son? Since he was a child, he has seldom asked for anything, but when it comes to you, he has turned into the most stubborn mule.”
I remember Professor Bartlett telling me how King Leon came to choose his bride. “Didn’t the others question your choice when you chose Isolde as your queen?”
He raises an eyebrow. “I suppose Edward has told you. However, in Isolde’s case, at least she was the daughter of a nobleman.”
“Why must nobles wed other nobles?” I counter. “Look at what’s happening in the streets, Your Majesty. The people are furious because of the exclusive privileges that are afforded to a minority, who have done nothing to merit those privileges except to be born in the right family.”
His eyebrows go even higher. “I have decades of experience being the king of the people. Do not lecture me how to run a country, Miss Wilson.”
“I’m sorry; it wasn’t my intention to criticize you.” I take a deep breath. “You once told me that public image matters more than anything. Today, the image of the peerage is in shreds. Tomorrow, it might be the royal family.”
I tell him about the burning of carriages, and he slams a fist on the table. “If they had cause to complain, they could have sought legal means to express their dissatisfaction. I will not tolerate inflicting violence and encouraging rebellious sentiments.”
“They know it won’t be any use asking you,” I say in a low voice. “You may be king, but your power is limited. You don’t even have the power to force the lords to pay taxes.” At his look of incredulity, I quickly continue, “Which is how it should be. Too much power easily leads to corruption. As was the case with Edward’s grandfather.”
There’s a spark of interest in his eyes. “I assume you did not request for a meeting simply to inform me about the carriage burning. What is your objective, Katherine Wilson?”
“I have an idea that could resolve this clash between the classes. I know you might not agree with me, but please, hear me out.”
“Speak.”
I fold my hands and brace myself for rejection. “Let the people vote.”
“Vote? Whatever do they need to vote for?”
“For a representative in Parliament. The people don’t need a rich, privileged peer to represent them in Parliament. They are angry because the MPs have rejected the tax bill, when many are starving. They are angry that so little of the population control most of the land. Let the people elect the members of the Parliament. There should be a representative from every region. That way, the MP will truly be one who looks out for the people’s interest.”
It is so quiet that I could have heard a butterfly flap its wings—if there’s a butterfly in the room. I decide to keep silent; let the idea sink in.
“Do you know how many heraldries have been granted to Athelian noblemen in our history?”
“Um…” I rack my brain—I’m sure I’ve learned about this, whether it may be when I was in Katriona Bradshaw’s body, or when Edward gave me princess lessons during my memory-loss period. “A hundred? Two hundred?”
“Two-hundred and sixty-one. Every member of the peerage, from the duke, marquess, earl, viscount, baron, as well as every member of the gentry, from the baronet to the knight, carry a heraldry or a similar sort of insignia that has been passed down hundreds of years ago. Abolishing the titles is no simple matter, Katherine. You are asking me to overthrow a tradition that has been in existence since our forefathers found this country.”
“I’m not asking you to destroy the titles,” I say desperately. “I’m asking you to give the people the power and right to make their own decisions.”
“And what if I give in? Will this send a message to the people that as long as they protest, they will get what they want? What if the people march in the streets and demand for my head?”
“Do you believe that the people have the leisure to congregate and protest whenever they want? It has to be something they can no longer tolerate, that they are forced to take to the streets. They could be arrested and punished. If they are protesting, it must be something so unjust that they could no longer be silent about it.” A tear trickles down my cheek. I don’t want to see either side get hurt. “Your Majesty, I urge you to consider my proposal. Otherwise, this crisis could become become worse.”