Consequence (or 'Insert Moral Here')

[A sequel to http://stochasticreview.blogspot.com/2011/05/pragmatism-or-insert-moral-here.html]

There once was a girl who was the daughter of an old and wise King. She had a happy childhood as the King was beloved by his courtiers and even those who didn't really respect him saw a certain amount of diplomatic mileage in being nice to his children. She rode in the nearby forest, swam in the moat and loved to read in the Palace library, even though she wasn't educated to the same standard as her brothers.

One day she was summoned to the throne room. Her father told her that he was seeking a husband for her. The man who cleared his Kingdom of thieves would be her new Lord and Master. She had a think about this. She had vaguely noticed the rise in stories of strife and robbery in her father's lands. However, the Palace guard was notoriously effective and the banditry had never impinged upon her life. Nevertheless, she decided to do what he said out of a sense of duty and gratitude.

She watched shyly from beside her father as the first strapping adventurers arrived to take on the quest, bedecked in heavy suits of armour and holding exotic looking weapons. A few of them excited her interest briefly but she never got a chance to get to know them and as the weeks went on and the reports of their deaths came back the process began to seem simultaneously terrible and monotonous.

Over time she stopped going to see off the bold heroes. So it was that she was sitting in her room playing a board game with a friend when a messenger came in to give her further news on the fire that had ravaged the records room last night and to announce that she would be married to the man who had completed her father's task (initially there had been some complications regarding the elderly hero's act of arson and his being a weaselly cheat. However, fortunately for the old warrior he had prepared in advance a plan for reform in the police force, including greater wage incentives, harsher penalties for corruption and greater engagement with local peasant communities. The Royal advisors had declared the plan sound and the King had decided to make the best out of a bad lot).

So there was a marriage. It was a lovely day and there was a feast and everyone complimented her on her beauty and tactfully avoided mentioning the age difference. She settled down to married life and discovered that it didn't differ much from being a Princess except that it was more official when you ordered people to do things for you. However, she couldn't forgive her elderly husband for destroying her childhood library and deep down had a niggling feeling that she might be happier married to somebody a little less old and cunning. She decided to seek help.

She went to talk to her Priest and he lectured her on the evils of divorce and the need for the inferior female to perfect herself through oneness with a man. He talked of obedience to her father and the glory in the afterlife guaranteed to those who endured difficult marriages. It was a rousing sermon but she was no stoic.

She went to talk to the Royal Treasurer, weeping in the ashes of his destroyed records. He bitterly talked of character assassination, a sneak audit of her husband's financial dealings that he could guarantee would unearth wrongdoing and a fall from grace. He recommended the seeking out of others in the court who had been inconvenienced by the barbarian's coup. However, she was no conspirator.

She went to talk to a powerful warlock (or at least a fairly proficient amateur folk doctor and meteorologist). He referred to slow-acting poisons and the possibility of inserting them into innocent looking food stuffs or drinks. He hinted at certain enemies of the Kingdom that could be safely accused of such treachery without raising suspicion. Nonetheless, she was shocked and inwardly knew that she was no murderer.

So she returned to her husband in the evening, as he sat before the fire with a brandy. He was resting his sore legs and working on the details of a new tax scheme but she sat down next to him and gently teased him into narrating the story of his quest to save the Kingdom from bandits and how he had triched her father.

The next day she got up at dawn, prepared a horse for a long journey and set out through the Palace gates into the countryside. In her knapsack she had a pen, paper and a rudimentary list of people who might aid her in reconstructing a set of destroyed criminal records. She was no historian but maybe she could learn.