King Tobin hushed her, raising a hand. Then he laughed unrepentantly. “No, dear. I gave them the wine myself – and why not? They are nine years old and going on their first real hunt this week... they are growing into men!”
Queen Maris glared at him, looking as if she wanted to slap him. Then she recovered, saying tightly, “I do wish you had consulted with me first... my love. They have vomited everything up – I never got to bed at all – I was in fear they might die!”
“Nonsense!” said the king bracingly. “So that is why you are up so early preparing for our journey... Well, pour some water down their throats and get the princes up. That was very good wine! They can nap in your wagon on the way... our cavalcade will leave at noon as planned!”
He beamed around at everyone. “It’s all settled then. Be ready at noon... Oh, by the way, I have great news. Darwyn and his men are accompanying us to the hunting lodge. What an excellent party we shall have this week!”
Scylla stared at him. Darwyn! The king’s cousin Prince Darwyn was a loathsome creature who had been loudly and lewdly drunk at the festivities last night. No one tolerated him but the king. Even his own wife barely spoke to him, and his young son would not go near him.
Queen Maris was staring at King Tobin in blatant dismay. “Oh, must he come? Will there be room at the lodge?”
“Of course there will be,” the king assured her cheerfully. “And... Scylla, my dear! I looked across at your garden the other day when the steward and I were up inspecting the castle walls. I meant to tell you how beautiful it looked, and what a wonderful eye for color you have, just like your dear mother Queen Clerryn had!”
Scylla caught a narrow vindictive glance from the current queen, who did not like to be reminded of her predecessor. Instantly she knew Queen Maris would find some way to damage the garden.
“Thank you, father... that’s why I keep the doors locked, so no one can go up and ruin it. Or my beehives... Lock that door to the stairwell, Sorrell!”
King Tobin gave a hearty laugh and turned an affectionate glance upon Scylla as Sorrell went back down the corridor to lock it. “Who would ruin it, my dear? You are safe with your loving family.”
Scylla looked at him in disbelief, as did Sorrell at the end of the corridor, and a few of the king’s soldiers... and even the queen’s women raised their eyebrows for a moment. The queen herself nodded in agreement and smiled lovingly at Scylla. But there was no love in her mean green eyes: there was a promise for payback later.
“Have you locked the stairwell door, Sorrell?” Scylla demanded. “I want a guard at that door!”
Her father looked indulgently at her. “Oh, my dear, how suspicious you are... Very well, I will put a guard on it until you return from the hunting lodge.” He gestured toward the door with a nod of his head. One of his guards, his face wiped of all expression, nodded back and walked a little shakily down the corridor to stand in front of the stairwell door.
The king continued, “Well, now that all is peaceful again, my dears... I’m back to bed to catch a few more winks. I look forward to our journey this afternoon!” He went back to his chambers, followed by the remainder of his guards and the soldier who was on duty in the arched hall.
Scylla glared at Queen Maris, who turned her back on her. Sorrell went into their chambers and Scylla followed her, slamming the door hard behind her. She locked it.
“How can he believe that nonsense?” snarled Scylla. “It seems he really believes it!”
Sorrell shrugged. “The king likes to believe all is well at all times. Much goes on that he does not care to see.”
Both girls put their ears to the door.
The queen was fuming. A male voice was soothing her – the priest. Queen Maris always had at least one priest following her around. This one was the High Priest, Soler. One would have thought he had better things to do.
“For example, those priests... they have gained far too much influence over the queen.”
“What’s he saying?”
“He’s saying all is well... her ladies can see to cleaning up the boys’ beds, doing the laundry and packing the trunks... do not worry...”
“I hate her!” Scylla snapped. “I hate all of them! Tell me when they’re gone. I want to go back up on the wall. We must remember to leave some food for the cat.”
“Did we not take her with us last year when we went to the Hunting Lodge?”
“She was a small kitten then – I think she should stay here.”
“You may be right. We don’t want to lose her in the forest.” After a moment, Sorrell said, “I doubt the queen would have addressed you, except she is cranky from being up all night.”
“And those brats told her I gave them the wine! The next time I see them near the wall I shall throw a pail of water down on them.”
“No, let me! I want to!” They snickered.
“Well, anyway,” said Scylla. “We’ll be traveling in our own wagon. Everyone else will be exhausted on the journey from staying up so late, and it will be early to bed tonight. I wonder where the king expects to house Darwyn and his men the hunting compound is not that large.”
“I’ll pack some food so we don’t have to appear at dinner.”
“Perhaps you should braid my hair first and help me dress. I will pretend to be a princess – of sorts! – and will take care to disguise the troll within!”
“Do try,” Sorrell recommended dryly. “It is probably best to contradict the queen’s lies this morning. Rumors will be rife within the castle!”
“Curses!” Princess Scylla looked around in irritation. “I’m sure you’re right... Where are my slippers?”
***
A pair of wistful eyes watched the departure of the royal family’s cavalcade through the castle gates, this time from the shrubbery along the road leading out of the village. First came the outriders leading the way – then the enthusiastic King Tobin and four not-so-lively soldiers of the King’s Guard. Next came Prince Darwyn and his soldiers, who were all pale and grim. The watcher ducked further into the shrubbery, as it was common wisdom to keep as far away from him as possible.
Then there she was! Only a glimpse of her though... there were Princess Scylla and her handmaid in their light wagon, with her driver handling the reins and the servant boy Fen sitting up front beside him. A fabric top shaded the wagon back and some baggage was visible. Not, however, as much baggage with which the other wagons were loaded.
There went the queen with her ladies-in-waiting – two of them – and one of those strange, to-be-avoided priests for company, plus the queen’s two small, excited dogs. In the next wagon, three servants sat with the twin princes, who had had to be hoisted aboard, moaning. The watcher had heard gossip about the princes having been found last night wine-drunk and vomiting – and wondered if it was true. Likely, she decided, or they would have been riding their matched pair of black ponies along with the king and his soldiers.
The rest of the wagon train was not as interesting, although it included two of the kitchen cooks and an enviable cargo of food for the week at the hunting lodge. Bringing up the rear were more outriders – leading other horses including the princes’ black ponies – and then a handful of armed soldiers whose faces showed they too had spent too much time carousing the night before. Like so many had.
Just as well. It meant there had been fine pickings with more to come, no doubt – leftover food, lost and abandoned items, and even a few coins now tucked away in some of her hiding places.
“I wish you a happy week!” she whispered, giving an unseen wave of farewell from the thicket. “Come back soon!” She sighed. There was no point in running after the royal family’s cavalcade like some of the village children were doing... Princess Scylla was already long out of sight.
***
“Good Goddess!” said the princess in annoyance, in the late afternoon. She was traveling with Sorrell in their light wagon, its woven cover shading them from the sun. Although the ro
ad was fairly well kept – because it was the route to King Tobin’s hunting compound and he went there often – the wagon still lurched and squeaked. It had been lurching and squeaking for hours past sheep pastures, small villages, fields, and forest. Scylla was reaching the end of her patience. “How much further is it to the hunting lodge?”
“Almost there!” came an encouraging voice. King Tobin rode up alongside the wagon, with several of his soldiers trailing behind. He sat his horse lightly and rode with almost invisible cues. “What an excellent journey we have had today – the weather has been ideal!”
Scylla gave him a nod. That much was true. The weather had been fine. Also, their vehicle was well ahead of the two wagons carrying Queen Maris and her entourage, and Prince Darwyn and his men had stopped a few times and fallen behind.
The king was beaming. He loved the annual excursion to the hunting lodge with the whole royal family, pandemonium and all.
“I cannot wait to show you the new turret I have had built – just for you! And I’ve had the riding field resurfaced and a new gallery built so all you ladies can enjoy watching the games in comfort. With Darwyn and his men here, we shall see some fine competition over the next few days!”
Among the many good horsemen in Rellant, King Tobin was one of the best. Since horses were his first passion, he and his soldiers – and anyone else he could entice – spent hours each day riding, training and playing horseback games. At forty, he could still vault like a youth onto a bareback horse and ride a flat-out gallop. A large part of the end-of-summer festivities – besides the payment of rents to the castle steward – was the day-long lineup of games on horseback. Prize money was generous and competition among participants was fierce.
The young princes showed the beginnings of the same natural ability on horseback as their father... Scylla had not.
“Perhaps I can sit in my turret and watch,” she offered politely. She had plans to spend time with her needlework, not with the queen and her ladies.
“Oh no!” said King Tobin cheerfully. “The turret is not accessible from within. That would have taken much longer to build. It is a very pretty addition to the lodge exterior though – you will see! Only a mile or so further now!”
He gave her and Sorrell a wink and a nod and picked up the pace, cantering ahead with his Guard.
“Do explain to me, Sorrell,” Scylla said quietly, so their driver and the servant boy sitting beside him were unlikely to hear over the sound of the creaking wagon. “What good is a turret that no one can actually look out of?”
Sorrell rolled her eyes. “It is a very pretty addition to the exterior, Princess! What more could you... ?” She stopped.
The king had wheeled his horse suddenly and was trotting back toward the wagon. “Scylla, my dear!” he said, drawing level and turning to match the wagon’s lurching pace. “I would like you to consider something.”
“Oh?”
“I have had an idea... just now.”
She raised her eyebrows questioningly. One never knew what the king might decide to do next.
“How would you like to live at the hunting lodge? I will provide you with a small Guard and your own household staff. I and my men will ride up as usual every few days and keep an eye on how it is all going... What do you say to that?”
Scylla drew a breath. “Goodness, father,” she said after a moment. “I am not sure what to say!”
“I will give you time to think about it... We will discuss it later in more detail!” A moment later he was gone again, his horse kicking up dust.
“Good Goddess!” Sorrell exclaimed, surprised into speech.
“Good Goddess...” Scylla echoed thoughtfully, drawing out the words as the wagon train rolled ponderously onward. “Indeed, what do I say to that?”
***
The last mile through the forest seemed endless. Finally, the wagons rolled into a clearing – the grounds of the king’s hunting lodge. A large, two-story building of stone and timber, it bore the weight of too many whimsical ideas and no one to discourage the king from carrying them out.
“Is that the turret?” said Sorrell, pointing. A round stone construction had been added to the upper third of the back corner, next to the large attic room Scylla and her handmaid occupied. A narrow window displayed small round panes of glass that reflected the sky, and topping the turret was a pointed roof with a flag flying at the peak.
“Well, it is pretty,” Scylla conceded. “... even though that window is blind. How did he come up with the idea for a turret, I wonder?”
“And why? It fits in with nothing else here.”
They stepped down from the back of their wagon. All around them, the travelers were stirring in the wagons or dismounting stiffly from their horses. Only the king and the lodge’s caretaker were smiling enthusiastically. Almost everyone else was plainly exhausted, including Prince Darwyn, who looked pale and shaky as he slid from his sweating horse.
“Let us go and claim our room now before bedlam erupts. I do not know where the king plans to house Darwyn and his men – there are not enough rooms.” Scylla clutched her bag containing needlework in one hand and a basket of food in the other.
Sorrell told the boy to bring up Scylla’s small trunk. She collected several other packages and they went in through the arched front doors and up the wide center staircase to the second floor. The lodge’s ground floor and the second floor were magnificent, with dark wood paneling, heavy furniture, carved accents, and rich wall hangings. From there the girls climbed the narrower set of stairs to the attic rooms. Scylla’s room was on one side and the servants’ room on the other. Between them was a very steep and narrow back stair leading down to the kitchen.
The doors stood open. Neither room was magnificent and the stairwell looked treacherous. Spider webs hung from the sloping whitewashed ceilings and dustsheets covered the beds and furniture. Sorrell crossed the room and flung open the dormer windows to freshen the musty air.
“I wonder which rooms the king thinks we would occupy?” Scylla mused. “If I agreed, I mean.”
Sorrell shrugged. “I would not care to travel all those stairs several times a day,” she said, indicating her damaged hip.
“Of course not.”
Their servant boy struggled up the stairs with the trunk and dragged it in.
“Bring us some water from the well,” Sorrell told him. “Here are two buckets – but make sure you clean them first, Fen! That one has a dried-up mouse in it.”
He left. Having accompanied them to the lodge in previous years, Fen needed no further direction. He listened well but never spoke.
“We are not going down to dinner,” said Scylla, who had found an apple in the food bag and began to eat it. “Fen can bring us up some hot water for tea later.”
“I’ll clean this room. I doubt it’s been touched since we were here last year. Except by mice!” Sorrell removed the dustcovers gingerly and bundled them into a pile near the door. “He can take these out and shake them when he gets back... also, he can take out this dead blackbird!”
“I’m glad you thought to bring our own pillows and sheets... I’m looking forward to going to bed as soon as possible.” Scylla crossed to the window and looked out. Below was the bedlam she had predicted, with horses, wagons, soldiers, servants, and trunks in disarray. “I’m not sure what’s happening down there, but I do not care either. Curses! Why did we not stay at home?”
***
Some hours later, darkness and quiet had finally descended upon the king’s hunting lodge. The early dinner was over and cleaned up – King Tobin and his guests had staggered or limped off to their rooms. Scylla had long since gone to bed, while Sorrell’s aching hip was all that kept her awake. The silence was marred only by a few snores audible from the servants’ dormitory room next door.
But then Sorrell, who was sitting on the side of her bed wishing she had not had to travel for several hours by wagon that day, became aware of sounds from below.
She got up, opened the door and listened. Moments later she crept out of the room and peered down the stairway toward the second floor, which housed the queen and her entourage on one side, and the king’s rooms on the other.
She began to understand what she was hearing, with growing horror.
Within seconds, she was shaking Scylla roughly. The princess woke with a jolt from a sound sleep, opening her eyes to find her handmaid’s horrified face staring down at her.
“What do you want?” she protested. A hand clamped over her mouth, silencing her with a painful grip.
“Shhhh!” hissed Sorrell. “Get up! Get up!”
“What?” she tried to say through the fingers pressed over her lips.
“It’s an attack! ... They’re killing everyone! Shhhh!”
Scylla’s sleep-fogged brain could not make sense of Sorrell’s urgent words.
Her handmaid hauled her out of bed and forced her slippers on her feet with fumbling fingers. Then she dragged Scylla to her feet and was shoving her – where?
Curses! she thought indignantly as they stumbled down the steep and narrow back stairs leading to the kitchen. “Have you gone mad, Sorrell?”
“Quiet! Quiet!” hissed Sorrell into her ear. “They’re killing everyone! Quickly!” Scylla stumbled out into the dark and deserted kitchen. Sorrell dragged her by her clothing to the side door and thrust her outside. “Run! Run!”
“In my nightclothes?” Scylla hissed back in despair.
Sorrell reached back in and threw a servant’s rough cloak at her. “Do you hear that? They’re killing everyone! Run!”
From within the lodge, Scylla heard screams, thumping and yelling. And yet another scream, choked off horribly. She clutched the cloak around her and ran away into the darkness... into the forest... anywhere to escape the dreadful sounds of slaughter.
She ran and ran, stumbling and gasping in terror.
She ran all night.
At dawn, she crawled into a hollow beneath a thicket, totally exhausted.
Curse it all! Why had Sorrell shoved her out the door alone?
A Princess of Sorts Page 2