The Mindwalk Pavilion

2021111702

The death of Selim caused considerable consternation in the Ottomans. Despite the ferocity of Selim's temper being well known, as was Murad's spiteful haughtiness, there were those who had supported him, and they were suspicious. In order to reduce the threat they presented, Bayezid had arranged for Selim's most ardent supporters to escort his body home. He felt little guilt in hoping that they might sink and drown on their way.

He knew that the downside of his strategy was that they would get to voice their opinions to Suleiman, before he saw him next. But he was now the Sultan's only living son, and it was unlikely that he would not succeed to become ruler.

He found that he cared less about this than he might have. The reason of course was Boudica, who now occupied most of his waking thoughts. He wished he knew what she thought of him, though that small gasp, made whilst they were eavesdropping on Selim and Murad's plotting, had been very promising.

As many meals were taken communally in the Great Hall, he was able to see her every day. He was aware that his interest in Boudica was known to some, certainly Bridget and William Cecil, but likely others too, if not everyone. Being himself a prince, he was not much effected by the attention this generated. He was well used to having to conduct his affairs in the full brightness of the sun.

He made a point of being very courteous to Bridget. He was surprised to learn that she was bedding Berat who casually let this slip in his usual chatty manner. He wasn't surprised to learn that it was Bridget who called the tune in the relationship, but Berat seemed more than happy. Bayezid could not help himself, and questioned his interpreter, hoping Bridget had let something slip about Boudica's feelings, but either she had said nothing, or, more likely, Bridget hadn't repeated anything to Berat.


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Boudica was adjusting to the demands that being Queen made upon her. She was keen to prove herself, and spent many hours a day in various audiences. One thing she did make time for were her pet projects, but she saw these as central to her reign. She discussed her plans for widespread education individually with every member of Council. Responses were varied, with some very negative.

It wasn't just that she would need taxes to pay for the project, though that seemed objectionable enough to some, but the whole concept of an educated population seemed an anathema.

"Why do they object so much?" She asked William Cecil.

"There may be many reasons Your Majesty, but amongst them is the idea that an educated person is likely to be less easily ruled. The question things, rather than simply accepting them. They are easier to lie to."

"But those are good things. Surely they can see that?"

"They are good, but not if you are a ruler, and wish to maintain the status quo."

"But think of the things we could achieve with a country full of educated people."

"Your Majesty's ambitions for her country are very commendable. Sadly, some are less altruistic than you. For them self interest is their prime, if not only, concern."

Boudica's face was flushed with frustration and anger.

"I will not be thwarted by selfishness."

Cecil regarded her sympathetically. He understood that this mattered a great deal to the young woman, and was wondering how to help her understand that compromise was inevitable. Even the Queen could not dictate. Cecil understood that Council was a necessary balance to the power of any monarch. The combined might of the Council could prevent the monarch becoming an absolute ruler, and had done so in the past.

"We must lead by example your Majesty. If we cannot convince individuals by argument, we can at least ensure that those who live on our lands exemplify what can be achieved. Ideas can take time to find wide acceptance."

"What is the point of being Queen if I cannot rule? If people can pick and choose which rules they choose to follow, there is no point in having them."

Cecil was troubled, Boudica was clearly very angry.

"Everyone must follow the rules Your Majesty. The issue is agreeing those rules, and this involves both yourself and all members of the Council. If you can persuade the majority to back you, then those rules should be obeyed."

"But some won't anyway."

"Any member of Council would have to be careful of directly disobeying a rule they had agreed to become law. Regrettably there are always other ways to subvert something that they do not wish to observe. Blame can be shifted for 'failings'. Limited dissidence for an disliked law can be fostered with a quiet word in a receptive ear."

"Boudica knew Cecil was right. He had a fine lawyer's mind, and years of political experience to draw upon. She knew that he would help her as much as possible to achieve her goals. She relied on him, as had Mary and before her Edward. Yet she could not stop feeling the frustration, and anger.

Not wishing to argue with Cecil, she took her leave of him and decided that she needed to work off some of the tension and anger. On a whim she set off for the stables, and ordered that her horse be made ready.

She was irritable and when Bayezid made an appearance she did not want to deal with him at that moment.

"Are you riding Your Majesty?" He asked politely.

She glared at him.

"I'm in the stables and my horse is being prepared, what do you think?"

Bayezid was taken aback, he had not seen the young Queen in a temper before.

A groom brought over the grey horse, saddled and ready. He stood holding the reigns and looking carefully at the floor, not wishing to be involved in whatever was going on.

"You should not ride alone. Will you allow me to come with you Your Majesty?"

Swinging up onto her saddle, Boudica fired at him,

"If you can keep up." Then she turned the horse and walked it out of the stables.

Bayezid spoke to the groom.

"Bring me a horse please, and quickly."

The groom said that he did not have another horse saddled.

"That does not matter, just bring me a swift horse."

The groom hastened to obey."

Bayezid leapt onto the horses back, leaned forwards and patted it soothingly, then guided it out to follow Boudica. She was already some distance away, having spurred her horse into a gallop. Bayezid spoke to his horse and set off after her.

Boudica's long copper hair streamed out behind her, and exhilaration replaced her anger, she turned to see Bayezid following. Then it was a race. Boudica was a superb horsewoman, and Frost was her favourite stallion. She rode the fields and sparse woodlands around the castle often, and followed a path that would eventually loop them back around to the castle gates.

Bayezid was riding bareback, but this didn't stop him getting a strong pace from the chestnut stallion that he'd borrowed. He rode intuitively, and when he was sure he knew what Boudica was doing, he angled his horse and set out to head her off.

Turning to follow his progress Boudica was surprised, and then disappointed at not being able to see him. She slackened the pace, before bringing Frost to a halt. Turning him around, she looked back across the fields. Then she saw Bayezid, way off. She realised what he was up to, laughed, and turning Frost once more, urged him on.

When Bayezid drew alongside her some while later, she rewarded him with a genuine smile that he knew he'd never be able to forget.

"You ride well." She said, having slowed Frost to a gentle trot.

"Thank you, as do you Your Majesty." He looked at her, her face was flushed and animated, her hair was wild.

"You look beautiful." He told her.

She blushed.

"Thank you sir."

"Would you address me as Bayezid?"

"Thank you... Bayezid."

He grinned broadly, so great was the pleasure of hearing her speak his name."

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