Pity the man with a weakness for beautiful women.
Pity be bestowed graciously upon his wife too.
She was no artful courtesan, neither, a sweetly perfumed concubine.
Yet she was raised to be his queen from the cradle; delicate, lithe , soft spoken and submissive. Skilled not in dance or music, but in fine calligraphy and political documentation instead.
Extra marital was a shunned phrase in the court. Held with the greatest revile, hushed over by the men who relished in their forbidden fruits and acknowledged and accepted by their ever patient wives, whom she knew, could do little more then sit and smile sadly at their ordeal.
He was a king from birth; by all means, he truly believed he could tell the sky when to rain and when to shine.
So he was never deprived of his hearts desire, she knew that.
She did not however expect him to single out her pretty maid girl, no older then sixteen.
Neither did she expect the same servant girl to return months later with an infant strapped to her back as she worked.
They passed each other in the marble hallway. A million words passed between them, conveyed solely through a single shattered glance.
Only then did she truly understand, that this was not a young girls mindless tryst, but a violation of the highest degree, and one with repercussions that the unfortunate creature would have to feed, bathe and clothe for the next eighteen years.
Vendetta, now that was a word that so pleasingly caressed the tongue, like a finely aged wine. Fantasies of revenge provided a sort of drunken euphoria for them, while her husband simply moved onto another painted face with hollow eyes.
What else was there to do? Both women were hopelessly under their imaginations sway. It could have been considered political treason, premeditated murder even, but to them it was just.
Like any dutiful wife, she would tell herself, she supported all her husband's ambitions, pleasures and pass times, so she introduced him to another bewitching maiden in pearls and fur, with so luminous face, that even the moon cowered.
The twist would unfurl like a masterfully weaved tapestry, it told the story of his downfall.
For she knew that the girl with skin bathed in moonlight and hair dressed with constellations, was married, to a king of a far fiercer province no less.
And who then could shield her contemptible husband from a greater mans wrath?