Day Two - 1,076

John Collier, Lady Godiva, 1898

The Parade

“You do not have to do this,” my sister said as I lifted the bridle onto Pierce’s head. His ears twitched, but he remained otherwise still.

“I told myself the same a thousand times last night while I lied in bed. The truth of it is that I really must, though, Penelope.”

“It cannot be true, Colette. There must be some other way.”

“No. It must be done. Half the town has already heard of my plans. Even if it were unnecessary, the town expects it.”

“And who cares for the expectations of the town?”

I smoothed Penelope’s hair back from her forehead. “I am royalty, dear Pen. I have a duty to my people.”

“But must you do it so crudely?”

I pulled my nightgown over my head. It caught on my chin and Penelope helped it off.

“Is the human form crude in its natural state?” I asked, not caring for an answer.

Penelope only sighed and held her hand up to hoist me onto Pierce.

“I expect it is awful uncomfortable without some kind of riding habit on,” Pen said with a small wince.

I shifted, settling into the velvet saddle. “Not at all. I am quite comfortable. Certainly more than those who are suffering under the tyranny of my husband.”

My sister nodded speechlessly. After a moment, she spoke. “You are sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, Pen. I have made my decision.”

Pen looked me in the eye then gave Pierce a swift slap on his hindquarters. He bolted out of the stables while I leaned low, my head next to his neck, feeling the bristling hairs against my cheek.

I thought of the letter my mother had sent to me only a few months ago. It had arrived just around Christmastime. Part of her letter had been nearly branded into my memory.

If you really feel what he is doing is wrong, protest it, but do it publicly. Do not do it in a way that makes him look as an idiot – it will not help your cause. Your move must be bold, but it must not be protesting him. You must protest the idea of it, not the man. Something public and wild would suit well. Ride through the streets naked (although that is only an example – I do not recommend that course of action).

I decided then that was exactly what I would do. For the next few weeks, I planned carefully. After that, announcements were made and excitement began to spread throughout the lands. Peasants came to the castle, seeking to hear that the rumors were true. I informed each of them myself that I was indeed planning to ride through the streets nude in order to protest my husband’s – the king’s – new policy. I explained that I was not defying him as his wife, but as his subject. When they left, they walked away whispering to each other. Quite often I heard the name “Lady Godiva” referenced. I could remember hearing stories of her as a child, but they were vague and blurry in my memory.

The center of town was about two miles from the castle. It was still early enough in the morning that the streets were deserted. I had ordered away the guards who usually roamed the streets at this time of day the night before. The sound of Pierce’s hooves on the cobblestones echoed throughout the streets. He whinnied softly, apparently on-edge because of the silence.

“Woah, boy,” I said equally softly. Pierce tossed his head gently but was again quiet. “Good sweet Pierce,” I said. “Dear loyal horse.”

I guided Pierce through the main entrance of the center of town. In only ten minutes or so, the streets would begin to crowd, and I would begin my somber parade.

A farm boy making his way to the fields passed me and nodded in a bow. I returned the gesture and watched him until I could no longer see his form clearly.

People filed into the streets from their homes, their wooden doors falling shut behind them. I took a deep breath and waited a few more moments as the streets crowded. Piece stomped at the ground, eager to be moving again.

“One more minute,” I said to him, running my hand along the broad side of his neck. “Easy.”

The wind blew my hair back, washing over my skin. Again, I breathed deeply. Then I began to urge Pierce forward. He turned his head and looked at me – through me – with his big brown eyes. I nodded and again squeezed his belly with my heels.

As I entered the main square, eyes were drawn to me and I was suddenly the center of attention. The entire town – the entire world, it seemed – was hinged on my actions. Piece moved cautiously, his eyes on the on-lookers while I kept my head low. I was not interested in being worshipped as their queen; I merely wanted to make a statement. There was no reason for me to say a word. Anyone who seemed confused was informed by someone nearby my intentions. There were few who needed an explanation, however. The rumors had spread thickly.

Pierce and I ambled through the alleys wide enough to accommodate us, and I kept my eyes down, avoiding those of the people’s. I managed to watch some of their reactions, surprised that few mothers covered the eyes of their sons or daughters, instead watching me pass with their lips parted.

I did this all day. When the sun got a new soft quality to it, I knew it was time to return to the castle. I was reluctant, staring at the town when Pierce and I had reached its limits. It felt more like home than the castle ever had. Just before I turned to leave, a little girl with blonde braids approached me.

She stood on her toes and held up a single daisy as high as she could manage.

“Miss,” she said, trying for my attention.

I leaned down, balancing carefully as I took the flower from her dirty fingers. I smelled it once, showing my appreciation, and then tucked it into my hair. The girl smiled, then giggled softly. Then she ran back to her mother, who was waiting for her at the end of the alley.

I waved, then set off for the castle, anticipating any news of wavering in the king’s decision.