“Glad to see she’s feeling more like herself.” They both chuckled.
Mako said, “Obstinate as a mule, but she did come through like a queen when Darwyn turned up.”
“Didn’t she though... Chancellor!... is that your idea or hers?”
“Hers. God, it’s hard to be idle when all the action is everywhere else.”
The princess made a note to remind herself... to have a proclamation written down regarding Mako’s chancellorship. And make sure he signed it. He wasn’t getting out of it, even if he decided he wanted to.
“Well, Chancellor... she would have died this morning if you hadn’t kept at her the way you did... Can I sit down?” Coltic sounded suddenly exhausted. “That was a miserable business, Darwyn, I mean.”
“Sit. She’s not queen yet. Well, not crowned. Asleep too.” A pause while he checked. “I think. Keep it down but tell me about it.”
The crackling flames, the warm blankets, even the lumpy mattress... and no one nagging at her – it was all very peaceful. She drifted off to sleep again to the accompaniment of the low rumble of their voices.
***
She had been lying awake for a while, warm and cozy. The light was dim as dusk had fallen, she presumed. She recalled the previous night, stumbling through the dark forest thickets, and shuddered. It was so nice here, so peaceful in between the times that Mako sat her up to drink broth and tea. She rolled over in the blankets and stretched... a mistake, because her movement brought Mako out of the chair to peer at her. She sighed heavily.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
“I have a question... How is it that the King’s Guard left the hunting compound unguarded?”
There was a heavy sigh. Then he said, “The king had invited Darwyn and his men to stay at the hunting lodge. There was not enough room to house them along with his own Guard... my men and I. So King Tobin solved the problem by sending us over to Espritt Keep instead, an hour northwest. He said it was perfect timing for a routine inspection of nearby villages and the countryside. It is, after all, my family’s lands, and my wife lives at our Keep, although we...”
He stopped. A moment later he went on. “Well, she was not pleased when we all turned up without notice! ... I did not like to leave the king without his Guard, but Prince Darwyn was with him, along with Darwyn’s men to protect the compound. ‘We’re safe with my cousin and his men!’ he said. He insisted. I had no liking for his cousin, but I never dreamed... never dreamed...! I should have known.”
He bowed his head, breathing hard.
“He was too complacent. In fact, my father was sadly oblivious at times,” Scylla said sadly. “Even if he was king. Was there anyone else who did not despise Darwyn? Although to murder the king and the princes... who could have guessed? And the queen too, of course, although I... well, never mind. Also, Chancellor Ledger’s declining faculties were apparent to all, yet my father made excuses for many months. He was too soft.”
“I will carry the guilt to my grave,” said Mako.
Before she could answer, he tensed, listening.
She heard it too: voices, hoofbeats, commotion as a cavalcade approached on the road outside. It was a slower cavalcade, however... not the fast and threatening movements of an attack.
Mako went to the door and looked out. “Thank goodness! Here they are.”
The princess sighed to herself. Her peaceful few moments were over. She would have to pretend to be queenly again... any minute now. Curses!
| Chapter 4 |
It was fully dark, with the moon showing itself through the trees. Mako was sitting on the porch steps eating some rabbit stew from a tin bowl. Coltic had brought it to him along with his own dinner.
“How long before she can travel?”
“Maybe tomorrow... maybe the next day. I’m waiting to see what the physician determines.”
“That injured ankle complicates things. Do you think she can ride?”
Mako snorted. “If she agrees to. Half a mile in a wagon on these rough tracks would make her more agreeable, I think. However, I believe there is a spotted mule in the village that is quite smooth and good-tempered. Maybe we can put her on that one.”
“Are you planning to get some sleep? I’ve got guards all over the area... all around the house. And her handmaid is with her now.”
“How did you find her? Why was she not killed in the attack with the other household staff?”
Coltic gave him a glance. “She woke some of the other servants and hid with them in one of the outbuildings. Then she sent them out to raise the alarm and spread the news. It was she who sat with the bodies until we arrived. Then she packed her things, I’m told, and walked home... to one of the local villages here.”
“Oh, yes, I remember her family.”
“Her name is Sorrell – if you remember, she was the only one of numerous lady’s maids that the princess did not get rid of as fast as Queen Maris hired them.”
“A prickly pair, best given a wide berth.” They both chuckled. “Yet, look who survives. The cranky princess and her bickering handmaid.”
“So when Renold and the castle wagon train came through her village and spread the news that the princess was alive and in need of her handmaid, her father dragged her out by the ear – yes, truly! – and sent her on to us.”
“Not too willing, then?”
“Mad as a wet hen, but at least we know the princess is safe with her. I have made it plain that she is not to leave the new queen without one of us being there in her place. The others...” He did not continue.
“Unknown... ‘tis true. Their loyalties were to Queen Maris, not to Princess Scylla.”
“Word from the castle is that most factions are with the new queen, not against her. And word has traveled quickly about the new chancellor. All good news... but the sooner she... and we... return, the better.”
They ate up the last of their stew in silence.
“I wonder... ” Coltic mused after a while, “... how well is the princess tolerating the attentions of her physician and the other ladies?”
“I will give them a few more minutes.”
They didn’t have long to wait. Behind them, the door to the smithy opened. One of the queen’s ladies peered out, distress written all over her face.
“The princess... the queen... requests the presence of Chancellor Mako!”
“At her majesty’s service,” said Mako, handing the dish to Coltic with a wink.
He entered the low-ceilinged room. It was now many times cleaner than it had been earlier, but still very rustic. Grand curtains, transported from the castle, had been hung across the wall, obscuring the small window, and several rugs covered the rough wood floor.
Princess Scylla was sitting bolt upright in the chair, which was draped like a throne with a beautifully woven fabric. She herself was attired in a fine new robe in black. There was a cold expression upon her stony face.
The physician, a slender middle-aged man named Greyel, turned a determined glare upon Mako. Beside him, the three women who had traveled from the court huddled together, twisting their hands or worrying at their clothing. Sorrell, the young handmaid who had saved the princess’s life, stood beside the chair, as stony-faced as her mistress and as stiff.
“I see your ladies have combed the twigs from your hair, Princess,” Mako said cheerfully. “I apologize for not having thought of it! I trust you are now more comfortable?”
“I am, indeed,” she responded coldly. Her long hair had been combed and drawn up into a style she wore sometimes for court affairs, tied at the crown and dangling down in limp ringlets. “The late queen’s ladies have been very helpful. Master Greyel has kindly pronounced me in good health, and promises to bind my ankle for more comfort while traveling.”
“Princess Scylla, you must...” Greyel attempted to break in but she overrode him with a snap.
“I will not have leeches applied to my skin in any spot!”
Used to being cosset
ed at court by the late queen, who had enjoyed irregular health, Greyel stated firmly, “Medicine dictates that leeches should be applied. It will benefit your recovery.”
“Desist, Master Greyel, it will not!” She stopped and took a deep breath. “Chancellor Mako! I thank you and your men for having provided me with such able assistance. I understand the cook is preparing a meal, although he does not find the kitchen here to his liking. Please provide Master Greyel and the late queen’s ladies – and the cook! – with suitable accommodations elsewhere. My handmaid will stay with me.”
Her words dropped like stones into a pool of silence. In the back room, a plaintive voice could be heard pleading for salvation from current circumstances: the cook, it seemed.
The ladies and the physician appeared to feel the same.
Mako gave her a slight bow. “As you wish, Princess Scylla.”
“The princess is naturally distressed, having been through such a difficult time,” said one of the ladies tearfully. “I beg you, Princess, please, please allow us to...”
Scylla cut her off with a raised hand. She turned her head. “Sorrell, you will stay with me. You others – collect your things and remove them.”
She watched coldly as bags and boxes were packed up and trundled out the door.
One of the ladies tried one more time. “Please, Princess...”
Mako said, “You may return to the princess in the morning. We hope to travel back to the castle tomorrow.” All three women and the physician stared at him in dismay. They, of course, had been traveling for hours via horse and wagon.
Mako held the door for the chagrined women and Greyel, and closed it behind them. Sorrell dropped limply to the mattress, which was now made up with queenly linens, as clean and crisp as the robe the princess wore.
“Is Bart Smith with the cook?” he asked.
Sorrell nodded without looking at him. As the princess had covered her face with both hands, he decided it wasn’t the moment to address her.
Mako went to the adjoining doorway and peered in. A moment later Bart came out, looking even more wild-eyed than usual, his thin gray hair standing on end.
“That man is crazy!” he muttered to Mako. “Food smells good though.”
“Assist him, if you would. When he’s done, bring the princess and her handmaid their meals, and take the rest of the food and the cook over to...” He paused. “I will find lodgings for them... I hope.”
“If you say so. Give me a proper burial if he slices me through... ” He went back into the other room.
“Chancellor!”
“Yes, Princess?”
“I am... I am about to scream!”
“Leeches?” Mako enquired solicitously.
“I would vomit!”
“Stupid women!” Sorrel, dressed in a shabby and not very clean peasant dress, lay flat on the bed and stretched out her legs. “Why did they bring them? Those are the queen’s tame parrots.”
“How is your hip?” asked Scylla, her ire subsiding.
“About as bad as you’d expect.” She closed her eyes. Mako remembered that the girl had a damaged hip, left over from a childhood ailment.
“I will force myself to be glad they were here – they were very efficient. Although annoying... very annoying!” Scylla turned her gaze toward Mako. The black robe did nothing for her color. She was as pale as the fabric was dark, with bruised-looking smudges around her eyes. Her wrists stuck out of the sleeves like thin sticks. “I won’t have the queen’s witches fussing over me once we get back to the castle,” she warned him sharply. “Or that physician. I will have a healer from the religious house that has a medical calling. When – if! – I need her.”
He gave her a nod. “Of course. I believe Renold did the best he could, bringing those who could travel. And of course, he didn’t know your handmaid would be picked up along the way. Are you not glad there are now women in this hell?” His attempt to improve her humor fell flat.
There was a sarcastic snort from Sorrell, from the mattress. She was quite lovely, with fine features, smooth skin, and glossy chestnut hair – in fact, she far outshone the princess in looks, while exhibiting as little charm.
“Sorrell, you saved my life.” The princess did not sound very grateful. “I must thank you... but... why didn’t you come with me?”
“I had to go back and wake up the other servants. We went down the kitchen stairs and hid in the old stable, the ruined one.” She fell silent. “Murderers... They murdered the little princes first, poor little boys. Then the queen... and her ladies... and lastly the king, who was wine-drunk. I couldn’t sleep because of my hip, that’s why I was awake.”
There was a brooding silence in the room, all of them picturing the awful slaughter a mere four nights ago.
“Well...” said Mako at last. “Princess. You pretend to be queen very well when necessary. I predict a successful reign of many years.”
“I do not wish to be queen. How dreadful this is!”
“I do not care to be the queen’s handmaid,” came a sullen sub-tone from the direction of the mattress.
“I, on the other hand... I am more than happy to be the queen’s chancellor!” Mako said, still determined to lighten the mood.
“Thank god for ambitious fools,” the princess mocked him. “Which reminds me... Get me a proclamation tomorrow... or even tonight. You will sign it, Chancellor. You will run this kingdom as you see fit and I, the queen, will pretend as needed. If you dare to leave, I will throw myself from the very top of the walls.”
“It’s not all bad, Princess! Think how much better it will be as queen instead of the misfit princess that nobody... ah... ”
“... that nobody likes?” she supplied sarcastically. “I beg to differ. This could be much, much worse.” For one thing, she had sent an army after a handful of men to kill them. It made her stomach churn, even though Darwyn and his men were murderers themselves. What would she find awaiting her at the castle?
It was now, she supposed, her castle.
Curses!
| Chapter 5 |
The next day dawned brightly, far too soon for almost everyone except the soldiers who had stood guard the last shift. They stood around and stomped to warm up from the pre-dawn chill.
Inside the smithy, the sunlight fought its way through the new curtains and woke up Princess Scylla, who was snuggled in beautiful clean blankets on the straw mattress. Across the room, Sorrell was snoring away on another makeshift bed. She awoke when the princess sat up, yawning. And in the back room, from the sounds of it and from the smells wafting into the front room, it seemed someone was cooking up breakfast.
“Sorrell!”
“Yes, Princess?”
“Remind me to have the chancellor make up that proclamation this morning.”
“Did you not tell him to write that up last night?”
“I don’t believe he did. We do not... NOT... leave this place without it.”
A voice in the back room began a complaining whine.
Sorrell said, “I believe there’s the cook back again.”
“Hmmm... well. He did produce a good dinner last night.” Scylla hoped someone would bring her a cup of tea soon.
“You ate almost none of it,” said Sorrell. “I hope we get back to the castle soon. You are even thinner now than you were before.”
There was a sound at the front door. Soft scratching on the wood announced the arrival of the late queen’s women. Mako and the soldiers would have made much more noise.
Sorrell got up, wrapped herself in a robe, and went to the door.
“Who is it?” The answering timid voices indicated that it was, indeed, the women.
“Let them in,” said Princess Scylla, resigning herself to the likely fate of being coddled to death. Oh well, they could be useful for now. She had no doubt they would have more of the arnica salve that had soothed her ankle the previous night, that they would heat some water for washing, and that they would dress her in su
itable clothing they would be more than pleased to produce. Sorrell, with her aching hip, needed to rest.
The door opened. Outside, there was a sudden altercation. A sharp, commanding voice was demanding, “I wish to see the princess! Take your hands off me!”
“You soldiers – remove her!” The timid voices suddenly became less timid.
“What’s going on?”
Sorrell opened the door wider. The princess, from her position at mattress level, could see two soldiers hustling someone away. The late queen’s women hurried inside, blocking her view.
“Who is that?”
It was no one, they rushed to explain; just a crazy old person. No one she needed to be bothered by.
“Sorrell! See she is brought back.”
Sorrell glared at her. “My duty is here... I do not leave you.”
The princess turned her attention to the other women. “One of you, then. Have them bring her to the door.” Protests died quickly under her level stare and some moments later a solid, upright woman was standing at the open door.
“What do you want?”
“I was in service with your mother the Queen Clerryn.” There was no hesitation in the response. “I was not needed by the second queen. If you now have need of a loyal...” and here her eyes went from person to person around the room... “... assistant... in your household in this troubled time, I am at your majesty’s service!”
The princess looked her up and down. She was well dressed, more than middle-aged, and looked irritated – but the sharp eyes met hers in the same way Sorrell’s did. No fawning, no guile; in fact, there was a hint of imperiousness. “I do not remember you.” Not needed by the new queen! Nor was Scylla, but the queen hadn’t found a way to get rid of her. Her father’s power had extended that far.
“You were young when I left, only four. I am not surprised.”
“What’s your name?”
A Princess of Sorts Page 6