Alison's Next Act ...

I have married five times, and know well the ways of men. Some are young and full of vigour, some are old and set in their ways. Others delight in their own knowledge, and still others in their lands, their ancient families, their nobility and their honour.

I have been married five times – I have married rogues and scholars, old men and misers. But I have never married a king.

My husband is a good man, they say. He does his work fairly. He is well-liked by the people of our land, and trusted by the king himself to arbitrate on his behalf. He has never been unkind to me, which is not to say he has been kind. To the contrary: he has been nothing at all. He is so busy dispensing justice that he forgets there are other ladies who need their servicing. He rides from hamlet to hamlet, and when he does not ride, he hunts.

And so, given that I myself have been long lacking a good ride, I must go on the hunt myself.

I invited the noblest people of my husband’s acquaintance to feast with us. I know how to make an impression; I know how to impress. "Fama volat," said the Roman poet, and I made sure there was a ready vehicle to spread the good news of my own being. And spread it did: soon my goodness, my beauty became known throughout the kingdom. And how can something be known throughout the kingdom without it becoming known also by the King?

He sent me gifts. My husband was never home to notice – and if he had been, he would have seen them only as tokens of appreciation for his own noble service.

Eventually, gifts and good tidings would not be enough, however. And one day when I was quite alone, with only my servants as company, he appeared: the King. Equitan. He made it known that he would like to deposit more than gifts upon my person.

But: As I say, I know men. And while I do not apologize for seeking my own pleasure, I am not stupid. Even a King can not be trusted to treat me as a partner should be treated. Indeed, he is even less likely to treat a woman well than an average man. After all, if it is true that every man has in some degree an amount of power to hold above a woman, how much more true is it of the king, who holds power over all of these men. I knew I could not accept his offer straightaway. I knew I had to have him in my own power.

By means of clever words and forthright speech I bound him to me. He was mine, and he would do my bidding. And yet still, I am not an adulteress. I have been married five times, but never did I leave a husband while he was yet alive. We have come to the present now, and there is only one solution: My husband must die.

I cannot kill him of course. I am not a murderess, any more than I am an adulteress. I know any schemes in our household could be traced to my own hand. My King could protect me from earthly accusation of wrong-doing: but what about my spiritual well-being? If my husband should die directly at my own hand, what fate would I suffer?

So I know I must not kill him. But is there harm in preventing him being killed?

I heard a story at supper one night: a story of a knight and an enchanted spring, and a terror of a storm that descended when its water was poured upon a stone. A storm that brought with it a knight set on defeating anyone who dared bring trouble to his territory.

My husband loves magic things. I made sure he heard the first part of the story; I took care to neglect to tell him the last.

I have overheard the stable-boys talking about his newest quest: to find the spring, to discover its source, and what power it may possess. He sets out on the morrow.

I have been married five times. I am waiting for the sixth.