“And maybe in time, we can persuade the Privy Council to let you join the Senior Corps, at least in some capacity.”
Valerie looked at her father, a smile starting to form on her face.
That was it! All she had to do was convince the council she was as worthy and capable as any man. Then she could join the Senior Corps, not marry – at least until she had fallen in love and was ready – and she could be the sort of crown princess she wanted to be.
She just had to find a way to convince them.
Chapter Seven
Valerie paced her room all that night, trying to come up with some way to prove to the Privy Council that she was just as good as any man. She had Cook send her a meal to her room, which she ate absent-mindedly. She cleaned her sword and armour, despite having spent all day at training making sure their gear was in perfect condition for the graduation ceremony.
Not that I’ll be attending now, Valerie thought.
Valerie was pacing again when a maid came in to collect her empty dinner tray. She had done nothing about finding herself a permanent maid yet, not having any events for which to dress up or any real desire to have her privacy invaded quite that often. With a demotion in station, Jeanna had less need for her maids so they often helped Valerie if she needed them.
“Thank you, Penelope,” Valerie said as the maid was walking out.
“Not a problem, your highness. If you need anything else, let me know.”
Valerie laughed. “Unless you know how to deal with stubborn old men, I think I will be fine for the night, thank you.”
Penelope smiled. “Ah. For problems, you will want to see the wizard, your highness,” she giggled and left.
Valerie stopped in her tracks.
She knew it was just a saying, ‘going off to find the wizard’. But maybe that was just what she needed to do. In the old tales, the wizard would set knights and young men quests to prove their worthiness among their peers. Was that not exactly what she wanted? A way to prove herself to the Privy Council? If she could find the wizard, he would bestow upon her a quest and once she completed it she would be treated the equal of any man in Mor!
She smiled to herself as she packed up whatever she thought she might need. It took her a while. What did one need for a quest? Her sword and amour were a necessity. She packed her armour at the bottom of her pack, fitting shirts and trousers around the pieces so they would not crash and clank so much. She packed her small purse of money. It may have been a lot by some standards, she supposed, but she did not think it was going to last her very long.
Perhaps she could enter some fights at local fairs to supplement her purse? She knew summer was the right time for fairs, but finding them and being there at the right time was going to be tricky. Still, she held out hope she could manage. If only she had some skill with an instrument, like Jonathan, that may have given her more chance of making money.
She knew she would need food as she would have to steer clear of towns close to the castle. Surely not everyone in Mor would have seen her face, but she could not risk anyone recognising her. She would need to be self-sufficient until she crossed Mor’s borders at least. She could hunt, but had not had a lot of need for it in the past. She thought it best to sneak to the kitchens on her way out and find what she could there. Even a bag of flour and oats would put her in better stead.
She looked around her room, seeing a lot of things but not much else she would need on the road. She brushed her hand over her trinket box. It held some pieces of jewellery, but not a lot that she cared for and she wondered if she could sell off some items. She had been given so many pieces during her lifetime that they had stopped becoming special and had no sentimental value. There were a few pieces she would never part with – her mother’s ring, a bracelet from Edmond, a necklace from her father – so she took those out and put them in the drawer of her vanity table.
She picked up a necklace Jonathan had given her for her twelfth birthday. It was simple in design, a silver chain with a small, silver sword hanging by its hilt. He had given it to her after she had told him her dream of becoming a knight and she had worn it diligently for years. As she got older, other pieces of jewellery were more appropriate for balls and dinners, and she had worn no jewellery while training, so Jonathan’s gift had been put away.
She put it on now, knowing that it would not draw attention to her nor be desired by brigands, and wanting a part of home with her.
She put on a simple shirt, trousers and boots. She found her plainest coat – not that she would need it in the morning, but there was a cool breeze at present – and pulled her hair into a wayward plait. Her stomach fluttered as she looked at herself in the mirror. She did not look much different than she did most days, with the simple clothes worn for training, but neither did she look distinctively like a princess. She took one last look, steeling herself against the uncertainty welling in her throat.
“Now is not the time for cowardice,” she whispered to herself. “Now is the time to be brave.”
She picked up her pack and crossed over to the window. Her Princess Room overlooked a section that was outside the castle walls proper. If she lowered her pack down here, she could collect it after she had been past the kitchens – as long as no one took it before she got to it. Now she had thought of that, she worried. But she would draw far less attention to herself without it.
She found a rope in the back of a cupboard in her dressing room, no doubt a remnant of her days playing with Jonathan. She tied one end of the rope to her scabbard and then to the top of her pack and began lowering them down the castle wall. It was not until her sword and pack was about halfway down that she wondered if the rope was long enough. She considered pulling the rope back up, but decided it was too late now. Her window was only three stories up, her pack and its contents would not suffer much from a fall at this point.
Valerie lost sight of the pack as it lowered behind tree shadows, but she soon felt the rope begin to slacken. Assuming it was safely on the ground, she dropped the rope and closed her window.
She wondered if she should leave her father a note. She knew if she was found missing, soldiers would be sent out to search for her. Knowing her father, he would find some magical way of tracking her. She thought through how best to let her father know she was okay.
Penelope would be the first one into her room in the morning. Penelope would come in, find her gone and run to tell someone. The two guards outside the door would likely take some blame, but she could clear them of any part in her note. The only way she could get away clean was to leave her father a note in his chamber and leave one for Penelope to find in the morning.
To Penelope, she wrote,
All is well, thank you for coming. I won’t need you for the next few days.
The note to her father was more difficult to write and she was not sure she would be able to express herself in a way that he would not worry.
Da, I have left to prove myself to the Privy Council. Do not worry about me. I will send word when I know more. My training has put me in good stead. I need to do this. Even if I fail, I need to know I tried. All my love, Val.
She folded both notes. She wondered where to put the note to Penelope. She wrote her name on the front and put the note on her pillow. She pulled the blankets back so Penelope would come over and see the note. She picked up the note to her father and put it in her pocket.
She paused inside the door before opening it and stepping into the corridor.
“Princess, what are doing up this late?” Mitchell asked.
She smiled and hoped she did not look too guilty. “I just need to take a walk.”
“Do you want company?”
“No, thank you. I might just go and see if my father is awake.”
“All right then, princess. Have a good night.”
“Thank you, Mitchell. Good night, Bert.”
“Good night, princess.” Bert replied.
&
nbsp; She walked slowly down the corridor until she rounded the corner. She stopped around the corner, leant against the wall and breathed deeply. Mitchell and Bert did not follow her, so she started making her way to her father’s chamber and she did not meet anyone on the way until she was outside the door.
“Princess.” The guards bowed.
“Do you know if my father is still awake?” she asked, hoping he was long past asleep.
“No, he has not come back yet. He is still in a meeting I believe.”
Valerie was not sure whether to be concerned or pleased.
“Ah, well…I think I left something in his room earlier, could I go in and check?”
“Of course, princess.”
She smiled and went in, the door being closed behind her. She stopped to take some deep breaths again. None of the guards seemed to suspect her of anything. In reality, her behaviour was no different than usual. Sometimes she went on walks late and sometimes she came to see her father late. There was no reason to feel so concerned, but she was shaking and sweating and was convinced that someone was going to catch her and stop her from leaving.
She pulled herself together, worried that her father could be back at any moment. She pulled the note from her pocket and looked around for a good place to put it. She walked through the sitting room and into the bedroom. It looked like Henry’s maid had been that night. She walked to the bed and stopped. She kissed the note and placed it on the bedside table. She turned it slightly, making sure it was the most obvious she could make it.
She looked around the room once more, then rushed out again.
“No. I must have left it somewhere else.” She laughed nervously to the guards as she left.
“Let us know if we can help, your highness.”
“Thank you. I’ll look for it down in the library.” She smiled and hurried on.
She got to the bottom of the stairs in the entrance hall without seeing anyone. She looked towards the drawing room. If her father was in a meeting, he would likely be in there. He was close, but she knew if she interrupted him and spoke to him she would lose her resolve to leave, that was if he would even let her.
She skirted the bannister and edged towards to the servants’ door. There were many doors and corridors only the servants used. Valerie could have used any number of them, but the likelihood of meeting someone on them was greatly increased. Valerie often felt that the servants’ working day was far too long – they were up before the courtiers and not to bed until much later – but there was very little she could do about it.
Although, if I’m going to be queen one day, maybe there will be something I can do then.
There was a small fire still burning in the kitchen hearth; Valerie was sure that this fire never went out, it was needed for too many hours in the day. Even in the depths of winter, this fire raged on. Valerie had heard it was the hottest room in the whole castle, no matter the time of year. Valerie did not doubt it. There was still enough residual heat in the kitchen now that Valerie was already sweating freely.
She looked around. The embers cast an orange glow through the room. The kitchen had not changed a lot since Valerie had been there last. She and Jonathan used to visit Cook nearly every day when they were younger, pinching little cakes and biscuits. Cook would always have some small treat or meal for them. They used to think it was much more fun having lunch or dinner with the kitchen staff than up in the dining hall.
She skirted over to the cupboards where the cook used to keep the dry ingredients. She pulled the doors open and looked through the contents. There were jars of various sizes, the labels showing they held a multitude of things. Valerie did not think that any of the jars would fit in her bag, or that a jar was a very good thing to be travelling with anyway. She went looking for a little sack or bag in which to put some bits and pieces. She had considered finding some biscuits or bread that Cook had baked, but she would feel too guilty; anything she took would probably have been made for a specific reason and her taking it would mean someone had to remake it.
She found some little material sacks. She knew how to make porridge with oats, and could make some bread-like things with flour, water and salt. She collected up the few ingredients she thought she would be able to use and put each one in a sack. She hoped she would find plenty of water while she travelled, but found a water skin that would serve her for the meantime. She also took a small metal pot, and a small wooden bowl, spoon and mug, hoping they would not be missed.
Her arms were full, but she went as quickly as she dared. She was sure Cook would not scold her for taking some supplies, but Cook would also be obliged to try to keep her in the castle until her father could detain her.
She slipped through the eternal door, crossed over the courtyard and through the door in the outer wall. It was not manned as it was locked and there were guards further in the keep. There was not much an intruder could get to from this door that was not guarded elsewhere.
She stopped and wondered if she should take her horse. She could move faster on a horse but she would also have to stick to roads as it would be hard to manoeuvre him at speed through the dense forest. On the plus side, moving through the forest would mean more hiding places and that any pursuers would not being able to catch up too quickly.
She rushed to the wall under her window. Mercifully, her pack was still there as was her sword in its scabbard, the rope still tying the two things together. She untied the rope and undid the pack, stuffing the sacks and utensils in and tying the water skin to the outside. She rolled up her coat and tied that to the top. She fastened the scabbard around her waist, where it hung with a familiar weight, before shouldering the pack and heading off.
She decided to head west, any direction but the one Jonathan had gone. She stopped. Surely Jonathan and Hugh would be coming home via a different direction than the one in which they left? Valerie had not heard from Jonathan for a few weeks and nothing had indicated they were on their way home, but Valerie could not risk running into them regardless. Therefore, she decided the safest route to take would be east.
She took off in what was to her best guess east. The trees got thicker the further she went and she walked for about an hour at a comfortable pace. Excitement welled in her chest. She was out in the world, she was free to live by her wits, she would no doubt best brigands with her swordsmanship, and she would be given a quest and prove her worth. She felt a little skip in her step and almost laughed aloud.
That was until the heavens opened and a summer rain drenched her within moments.
Her coat had been waterproofed, but that was of little use now she was already soaking. She kept walking for a while, hoping that the rain would ease up. She could barely see ahead of her, the rain blocked out the meagre light of the moon. She had to blink continuously to keep the water out of her eyes and she stumbled more often that she would have preferred.
Eventually, she realised she would have to stop. She was already cut and bruised, and she had ripped her shirt. She walked a bit further, looking for somewhere to stop that would afford her some cover from the downpour. Soon, she found a tree with such dense foliage that the ground underneath it was veritably dry. She crawled under the lower hanging outer branches and found a nice little hole, dry and warm. She took off her pack and checked inside. The contents were still dry, the outer coating of wax on her pack had meant the water rolled off and did not have time to soak in. She contemplated changing into dry clothes, but it was not very cold and she could not be bothered. Now she was sitting down though, she realised she was tired.
She yawned. Leaning back on the trunk of the tree, she closed her eyes and let herself doze. It was not the best start to her journey she could have hoped for. She had not expected it to be filled with unicorns and rainbows, but she had not pictured mid-summer torrential downpours in the middle of the night.
She yawned again.
At least the rain will make it harder to track me, she thought
as she drifted to sleep.
Chapter Eight
When Valerie woke, it took her a few moments to remember where she was and why she was there. The sun was shining, her clothes were still damp, her stomach rumbled, but she remembered her task and smiled.
Another few days of walking and she would be over Mor’s border into Veram, as long as her trajectory was correct. From memory, there was a small town just inside Veram with an inn. She guessed that would be a good place to stop and get her bearings, and perhaps get some information about her search and any surrounding fairs.
She did not think it wise to light a fire under the tree, she did not want to end up catching the whole tree on fire. That was a sure way for any potential pursuers to find her location. If she wanted to eat, it would be cold oats. She got out the bowl and measured some of the oats into it, mixing them with water from the skin. She stirred them together and set them to soak for a few moments, hoping cold porridge would not taste as unappealing as it sounded.
Thankfully, it didn’t. In fact, for summer, it made quite a nice change from hot porridge.
After breakfast, she rinsed out her bowl and spoon. She lamented the use of her water, but could not bring herself to put the utensils in her pack dirty. She would find a stream soon, she was sure of it, and if the previous night’s rain was any indication, the weather may be unseasonably wet for the next few days.
She crawled out from under the tree’s branches, dragging her pack as she went, her scabbard tip dragging behind her. She straightened up and stretched her back. Sleeping against a tree was nowhere near as comfortable as sleeping in a bed, but she relished the change of atmosphere and the fresh air. The excitement of the task ahead kept her feeling light and happy, and ready for whatever came her way. She was more than happy to sleep under trees for as many days as it took for her to find the wizard and complete her quest.
Valiant Valerie (Ballad of Valerie of Mor #1) Page 7