The Jealous Advisor

Barely had I ever held the royal family in low regard, and even in the face of their brash decisions when it came to the ignorant and bothersome troubles of the poor folk who lingered in the main hall; itching for a chance to request more food and water from our Lord Duke. I, his humble advisor, was it his side nearly every morning, early and tedious to miss a minute of my company in the divine-one’s presence. It was by his side at which I would stay until being sent away sometime at the stroke of midnight.

A time at which I would retire to my chambers and leave the duration of the Duke’s night-life up to him and the Duchess. I held nothing but the highest honor one could have beside the Lord Duke, and so I’m sure you could imagine my faint and trembling legs as I was steadily informed of my Lord’s sudden demise at the hands of a poisoned grape, topped purely above a bowl of morning fruit. The Duchess wept as I held myself like a stone, attempting not to stir tears at my Lord’s presentation and burial.

I comforted the misses in her roses chillness. She was so elegant after the ceremony, kneeling beside his grave for hours and pouring tears into his plot. I stood by, watching from behind a tree; her perched body bending ever-so.

Truly a bird of fairest zest. Oh, one could wonder what enchantments they had shared, alone at night and tucked up against the backdrop of a moonlit night in France. Some would say it was the Duke’s wife that I had coveted.

This was untrue, while I shall admit I often had wonderings about the goings-on beneath her dresses and upon her freshly white skin. No doubt, she was a thing of beauty and a young-thing at that. At a time in her life where not all the foulest deeds she could preform made her appear un-sullied.

But, as I had said, she was not the subject of my obsession and sleepless nights. She was merely a piece in the grand scheme of my true feelings toward the Duke himself. For I was my Lord’s lover. 

So, it was, that he had promised me a change to law and a time in our age when man could be joined with man. A time when his lady would be set aside to make way for the love which I cradled near and dear. A love which he seemed to toy and play upon with each and every passing day.

I suppose he thought I couldn’t hear. Hear the voices of love and astonishment at the phallic and sensual pleasures which emanated from my Lord’s chamber. Pleasures which he had promised me.

It was behind the curtains of celebration and in a state of a wine-filled dazed in which my Lord seduced me. First, at one when I came of age. At first his words were sweet and with each encounter I found myself unable to contain these… urges.

Such vile things which I was taught would mix me among the other souls of the damned when my final hour had come. Alas, with him I cared not if I was to be casted down into fire, and for my love. He was my universe and she was a void.

A witch in the clothing of an elegant mistress which swept my lord from my touch and kept him locked away. With her lady bits and such intact, and in such a perfect arrangement, how was I to enchant the eye of my love once more? For she had taken him and all his promises, right from beneath me and with a vicious haste; though she might not have known it.

Some would say, with pressing confidence that they saw the Duke’s eyes upon me and in a way which was blatantly apparent to the other members of his court. Though words had spread we made quick to banish these thoughts from our followers. Our dynasty was on the brink of war and the pressures which filled the mind of my Lord were too many to be counted.

This, as well as the vicious fighting and secret mind-games between him and myself did little to help his health. I knew his wife was winning and so… I had to think fast. That was when the shadow of death revealed itself to me, within dream that instructed me upon the nature at which I should go about securing my love’s heart, once and for all.

What a dream it had been, as the angel, Michael, had ascended to speak directly to me. My chamber was a-glow as his wings cradled me and spoke words which fitted my love with meaning and purpose which transcended this life and the world’s beyond. So, the next day I took immediate action to secure the word that heaven had sent out for me.

It was the poisoned grape atop his morning fruit bowl which was placed with intent, unmalicious, and loving in my eyes alone. As he fell over I stood firm, unworried, while the Duchess rushed to his aid. I knew she couldn’t help him. Not with the poison I had used.

Not all the angels in the heavens could remove this poison from his lips. It was brand, created by myself. I called it the kiss of death, and it was good.

Right when he went under I had the second phase of my plan all readied. That very night, after the burial, I snuck into the chambers of the Duchess and drove a dagger into her heart. She screamed at first, but not a moment more as I sliced her throat, just like in the story of Macbeth, as he had done his king in.

She died peacefully, or as peacefully as I would like to imagine, in my arms. This was vengeance for her playful eyes, working upon my love. He who I was forced to send unto eternity. 

Now, with a prayer I cast this vixen into the flames of hell. A place where all wretched-folk must go. A place that I will never see, for I will be united with my love in the chapel of Michael.

I can hear the poor knocking at our doors now. The sound of the angry-depraved having drank their last well dry, and looking towards the deceased Duchess to fill-in for the word of her husband. But I had killed her.

There, lying in the bed my Lord once lied in, I rested the limp Duchess at my side and undressed. I could hear the townsfolk and all the beggars knocking at the chamber’s doors. At any moment, I told myself, they would break through and take me away.

Away to be hung and beaten and mutilated beyond comprehension; and in my final hour I would see my love, my Lord Duke in the realm beyond life. In a place of silence where only he and I would live. That is, once the mob has me; strung up and beheaded and tarnished the blasted member of the royal cast that I am, and always will be.

Once they come to find me, and return me to ecstasy, that is. For now I lay in crimson as I can hear them approaching. Ever so close, a final absolute to the saga of my love and death, ever so near; as it was always intended to be.