A Princess of Sorts

by Wilma van Wyngaarden

  They were all nodding eagerly, and searching every inch of her with anxious eyes.

  “Very fragile – if it is possible to allow her to rest and recover with a minimum of interference... She will have a demanding day tomorrow...”

  “Chancellor,” the princess said firmly. “Have you that proclamation on your person?”

  “I do, Princess.”

  “Use it as necessary,” she told him and waved him away. “The kingdom requires attention – see to it.”

  “I will consult when necessary, Princess... I will return,” he said, gave her a bow and left the room.

  ... Leaving her with far too many people whose intent was to cosset the new queen to death.

  Scylla took a deep breath and said, “Bring me some tea, please. Please bring a stool to elevate my ankle, and bring me some cold water to wash my face... I do have a headache... and I will have it understood! ... that no matter which medical person turns up, there will be no leeches... is that understood?”

  After that, she closed her eyes and prepared to respond only when it seemed entirely necessary to do so.

  Curse it. Curse it... she was back in the castle, but the peace and rest she longed for could not be found.

  Even now... there was a commotion in the hall and a rap at the far door. She winced. But was that a familiar step?

  She opened her eyes to see Coltic crossing the reception area.

  “Princess!” The blonde angel approached, looking out of place: a breath of fresh, vigorous air in the over-decorated room. Although, not surprisingly, he appeared somewhat the worse for wear.

  “Captain,” she responded wearily. “Oh, you have the prince, I see. How is he?”

  “Whiny and hungry. May I sit down, Princess?”

  “Bring Captain Coltic a chair,” she said to those who were hovering around. A second large chair was found and placed near hers. “And please let some light in – pull those curtains back from the side windows!”

  “I thank you,” Coltic sighed as he sank into the chair, placing Leon on the floor. The small child clung to him, snuffling. “May we speak in private?”

  The princess looked around, raising her eyebrows. Without a protest, the castle staff withdrew from the chambers, closing the door behind them. She was sure they continued to hover outside. She looked at Coltic and waited.

  “Mako’s orders,” said Coltic quietly, leaning closer to her. “He does not know who can be trusted, even within these walls. Since I’m injured – not badly, as you know – I will stay here and guard you. This room will be the castle hospital for now. You, Prince Leon, I, and Lady Sorrell when she arrives – all are in need of care of some sort. There are also soldiers outside the door, and I will place two on the roof garden shortly. Thus you will not be left alone, or with people who may be... untrustworthy. I hope this is not an inconvenience, Princess.”

  “Hmmm. Well,” she said, thinking it through. Suddenly she felt more cheerful. “It is the best it could be, I suppose. Do you know when Sorrell may arrive?”

  “Some hours, perhaps. Minda’s husband is not driving the brown pony!”

  “What an excellent animal that is! ... I accept Mako’s plan, Captain. Please direct the staff as you wish.”

  He nodded and got up to open the door, letting the worried staff back in. Leon trailed after him with a wail, his nose running.

  Coltic said to them, “I have an injury and may need medical attention. Prince Leon here is now under royal protection – bring him suitable food, clothing, and a bed. Also, the Lady Sorrell, the princess’s former handmaid, has been injured. When she arrives, she will also need her bed... bring it in and put it over there,” he pointed. “And as she has broken ribs and a broken arm – possibly more! – she will also require care and assistance.”

  “Do you need a bed, Captain Coltic?”

  “No, anything that is not the back of a horse will be fine for me,” he said and dropped back onto the chair. “First priority after the princess’s requirements is food, a bath and a bed for this grubby little prince,” he said to the attendants. “Bring the bath in here. For now, this room will function as the royal infirmary. And can someone wipe Prince Leon’s nose, sooner rather than later?”

  “Yes, Captain!” They sprang into action like a well-trained army.

  A wave of exhaustion had fallen upon Princess Scylla. “I cannot sit up anymore. I want my own bed brought in. The queen’s bed can be removed to another room. I will not sleep in it.”

  Protesting murmurs turned to assent when she stared coldly at her attendants. It took a while to disassemble the late queen’s large and ornately carved bedstead. Finally, the last piece of it was dragged across the floor, out through the door and taken elsewhere. Then Scylla’s small and shabby bed arrived, casting a pall on the grandeur of the room with its high ceiling, arched windows, and rich carpets.

  She pointed at a windowless alcove, which had been used as a closet of sorts. A green curtain with yellow tassels hung to one side of the doorway. “Put it in there. Then I will lie down and sleep, I hope.”

  When the bed was installed, Coltic picked her up and transported her to the alcove. “I cannot allow you to close the curtain, much as I’m sure you would prefer the darkness. I will have them leave you in peace, however,” he said quietly as she pulled the blankets over herself. She had to admit the bed smelled musty and could have used fresh sheets, but all she wanted was to lie still and sleep.

  It was heaven despite the activity in the room, Leon’s whining, and the sunbeams coming through the windows.

  ***

  She had no idea how much later it was when she was suddenly awoken, dragged unwillingly out of a deep, dreamless sleep.

  “Leave me alone!” she grumbled.

  “Princess.” It was Mako’s voice, respectful but as insistent as ever.

  “Curse you, Mako! Let me sleep.”

  “I need to consult with you.”

  “Whatever it is, go ahead!” She kept her eyes closed.

  “I need you to sign these proclamations.”

  “Can you not just forge my signature?” she snapped, remembering to drop her voice to a whisper.

  “No, I can’t. Wake up and sit up.”

  She groaned. “Is Sorrell back yet?” She sat up, and Mako propped her up with a couple of pillows.

  “Yes, she is. She’s in bed and able to speak, but sleeping now.”

  “I wish I was sleeping,” she groused. She rubbed her eyes and tried to focus on the papers he was holding in front of her. When he began to explain, she cut him off, demanding the pen with which to sign.

  “Princess, I must say it’s a good thing I’m trustworthy,” Mako told her disapprovingly.

  She signed her name as firmly as she could in each of the places he pointed to.

  “Just be glad I’m alive... that is, since it seems to suit you.”

  “Yes, it does. Things are looking good, there is almost universal support for you as queen...”

  “Thank the Goddess for that... or in spite of that!” she said nastily. “Now go away!”

  He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling and shook his head. She yanked the pillows away and lay down again in blessed relief, squeezing her eyes closed.

  “You can tell me all about it later. Have no one disturb me again! I will expect a full report, Chancellor.”

  “You shall have one.” With that, she was again left alone to drift back into sleep.

  She woke up again later. It was darker and quieter: nighttime, she surmised. She was hungry and thirsty but did not care to ask for assistance.

  After a while, she realized she wasn’t alone in the alcove.

  “Are you awake?” a voice asked quietly.

  “...Minda?”

  There was a sigh, then a firm, “It is I, yes.”

  “Should you not be sleeping?” From the dim light and lack of movement in the chamber beyond Minda, it seemed everyone else had gone or was asleep.

  “
Captain Coltic needed to sleep,” came the answer. “Sorrell as well. There are guards outside these rooms. I am the guard, shall we say... inside. I have also had a young person brought from my household to look after the prince. And you, if you need assistance.”

  “I see. Well, I may, but not at the moment.” It was far too cozy in bed to think about leaving it.

  “How is your headache?”

  “Mild. When do I have to... when is the coronation to take place?”

  “Hmmm. Noon, but I expect the festivities are likely to drag on for the rest of the day.”

  “Oh no!” Scylla moaned. “I cannot!”

  “Of course you cannot. Not all day and all night. You will make your appearances and retire when you wish to.”

  The matter-of-fact tone was comforting. Nevertheless...

  “This is dreadful.” Scylla moaned again. “I am so very un-queenlike! How can I possibly...?”

  “I have some ideas about that,” Minda responded in a thoughtful tone.

  Her next question, after a moment or two of silence, was a little surprising.

  “Do you remember your mother?”

  “Not much,” Scylla admitted. “Actually, not at all.”

  “You have a little the look of her.”

  “Oh? Queen Maris said I had my father’s looks... unfortunately not attractive on a woman.”

  Minda snorted.

  “Well,” said Scylla. “My face is long, my eyes are too close together, I have a large mouth and crooked teeth. And I’m small and thin. Does that sound attractive, or even queen-like to you? I believe it is a little troll-like, instead. I’m glad my ears are not too large.”

  “You seem to be able to conjure up a very queen-like presence when it’s necessary. So Mako says, and I have seen some of it too.”

  It was Scylla’s turn to snort.

  Minda added coolly, “Oh? I gather that the former queen’s household has not treated you and Sorrell very well. But you were able to hold your own – to a point, I hear. Those that remain seem respectful, perhaps even frightened of you.”

  “I shall send them away!”

  “Some, yes. But later.”

  Scylla seethed. She herself was frightened, she had to admit; frightened of the expectations looming over her. Stepping into the role of Rellant’s queen was highly intimidating for a misfit princess who herself had no expectations at all.

  “Time...” said Minda thoughtfully. “We shall need a little time in the morning.”

  “For what?”

  “Your mother Queen Clerryn was not the most lovely woman, but she was able to carry off the appearance of beauty. You, also, could cultivate a rather striking look.”

  “How?” asked Scylla in disbelief.

  “Your legend is already in place and growing.”

  “Good Goddess!”

  “We might add to the legend,” Minda told her. “If you care to.”

  Scylla could only stare at her in the dim light.

  “For now... I shall summon the maid, as I am sure you would like some assistance. Then some food and tea, if you care for it. I have made the soup myself on the stove here.”

  Scylla nodded. “Thank you.”

  Sometime later, back in bed and with a small lamp lit in the alcove, she was sitting up eating warmed-up soup and sipping at tea sweetened with honey.

  Minda was inspecting some clothing in the dim light, murmuring contemplatively.

  “The black of mourning is very harsh,” she said after a while. “I believe we will add some cream-colored fabric. And also... I have heard that Queen Maris and her ladies had a habit of appearing regularly at dinners in fancy dresses and excessively elaborate hairstyles. Is that true?”

  Scylla nodded. “Extravagant dresses and a multitude of curls and ringlets... piled high or hanging every which way. One of her ladies was very creative with hair. I believe she was one of the ones who went with her to the hunting lodge.”

  “And is now dead?”

  Scylla nodded.

  “I suggest that you may consider a very different style of dress and hair. I have some ideas about cutting your hair, if you agree.”

  Scylla almost choked on her tea.

  “And remember, you are in mourning. The proposals of marriage that have been put forth...”

  “The... what?”

  “Mako has informed me that three proposals of marriage have been placed on the table. You are in mourning, and you should not consider marriage for at least six months... Or do you wish to consider it?”

  “Absolutely not!” said Scylla in alarm, putting down her teacup.

  “A wise decision. Certainly not for the next six months, it would be too soon. After that...”

  “I do not care to think about it!”

  “Of course not. To return to the previous topic, this is a dress that belonged to your mother the queen.”

  Scylla could only gape at the garment Minda held up. In the dim light, it was impossible to discern detail.

  “I knew where some of her clothing was stored after her untimely death,” said Minda. “In fact, it was I who put them there. Fortunately, no one had disturbed the trunks. However, there has been damage to some items from dampness and mice. You are smaller than she was – I believe I can tailor this to fit you for your coronation. Or have you already planned what you will wear?”

  “I have planned to run away.”

  “Joke if you will,” Minda said. “You will not run away. Only, of course, because you have an injured ankle.” Her eyes gleamed in the faint light. The princess thought she might be smiling.

  “May I take a few measurements to fit the dress?”

  Scylla nodded agreement. Minda took some measurements with a piece of string, tying knots at appropriate points.

  When she was done, she suggested the princess continue to rest after she was finished her tea and soup. “I hope not to disturb you. However, I shall have to have more light in order to see my work. I have a few hours until dawn breaks.” She left her chair and returned with a few more candles, lit them and started into the required needlework. She said nothing further.

  Scylla drank her tea and contemplated various things – such as trunks full of her dead mother’s clothing (where had they been, and what was in them?), three proposals of marriage (from who?), the approach of her coronation, and what she would look like tomorrow after Minda was finished with her.

  After a while, she dozed off, but far too soon for her peace of mind the dawn light came creeping through the windows and woke her up.

  Far too soon... Curses!

  | Chapter 9 |

  A pair of eyes blinked open. Dawn! The watcher stirred in her perch in the willow tree on the riverbank. It resembled a nest. She had interwoven sticks and branches to make a platform where she could sleep without the fear of falling off. Above the nest was a tattered piece of sheepskin that she had strung up to form a roof. It shed the rain – or at least it did unless it was heavy rain.

  She sat up and squinted at the castle wall. Even in the dim dawn light, she could see that the princess wasn’t there to see the sunrise. Maybe she was late getting up.

  The watcher waited. The sun rose... and dawn brightened into a fine morning. No one appeared on the wall. She heaved a pensive sigh.

  “Greetings!” said a small, shrill voice, from somewhere near her in the tree.

  Was that a bird? A talking bird? She cast a wary glance around.

  “Greetings!” the word came again, this time with impatience.

  The watcher’s eyes began to distinguish a strange small form on a branch a few feet away. It was some sort of grayish creature, but not a bird. Its stick-like legs were folded as if he were a tiny man squatting there, the body seemed a little furry, and one small hand held a branch for security. The other arm was tucked up close to its body.

  The watcher, always wary, did not reply. Her large gray eyes took in every inch of the creature.

  “You are not a talker,”
he proclaimed. “I have never before seen a human child living in a tree.” The beady eyes stared back at her, and the little mouth seemed to have sharp teeth.

  The human child living in the tree began to calculate how quickly she could descend said tree. She was light and fast, but she suspected the stick man in front of her was even faster. He looked so much like a bundle of twigs that she thought he must be some sort of a tree dweller.

  “Do not fear me, small child. I see you have a fine view. Princess Scylla is often seen upon the wall, I hear, and tends a garden there.”

  The watcher gave him a very slight nod. Her eyes slid sideways and checked the wall, which was still empty. Not even the silhouette of the cat was visible, although she had seen it several times while the princess had been away.

  “I doubt she will be there, for she is frail, very frail! There is danger – I must find my way in.” He began to fidget, his sharp little eyes searching the castle wall. “I may be able to climb the ivy, but it does not go all the way to the top! The stones are smooth – danger!” He chittered nervously.

  “Your arm is broke,” whispered the watcher very quietly.

  The sharp teeth were bared in a vicious snarl. “It may be!”

  “The laundry,” came the tiny whisper. “Laundry window’s broke too.”

  “Ahhh!” chittered the creature, his eyes peering at the castle.

  “There.” The watcher made a small gesture toward the riverbank, where thickets grew near the base of the wall and the laundry sluice drew water from the river. “Watch out – the kitchen!” The castle’s large garden stretched back from the river, with an extensive orchard further along the bank. Even now, people could be seen in the garden, and the kitchen gate stood open.

  “The coronation feast!” The tree dweller hopped to a lower branch, almost more quickly than her eyes could follow. “Not much going on in the laundry, but busy as a beehive in the kitchen on Coronation Day! I will look for a way in. Careful! Careful!”

  With a bird-like cry, he began to descend quickly. Then he flitted back up to stare at her from his piercing eyes. “What is your name, tree-dwelling child?”