To the boy, the Princess said, “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”
“Your fault?” said the boy, but the Princess was already headed after the Majordomo.
“The Duke is insulting you,” whispered Just Alice.
“Again,” whispered Mennofar.
“He could have found something for you if he wanted to,” whispered Just Alice. “And that’ll only be the beginning. The Duke wants to marry the Princess so he can become king.”
“But I’m going to marry the Princess,” said the boy. “Or am I? I’m getting confused.”
“It’s perfectly simple. The Princess only said that she was marrying you to keep the Duke from trying to force her to agree to marry him. But the Duke doesn’t know that, of course. So he’s going to try to make trouble to keep you from marrying the Princess, even though that isn’t really going to happen. So you must not fail to keep the Duke from preventing that from not happening.” The words tumbled out of Just Alice in a rush. When she’d gotten it all out, she looked at the boy expectantly.
“Um,” said the boy. “Uh…”
“The Duke is going to try to wind you up,” said Just Alice. “Don’t let him.”
“Got it,” said the boy. “And here I was worried she was going to be cross with me for having nothing to wear.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” whispered Just Alice. “She could hardly expect you to vagabond your way across the length of the Kingdoms and then turn up for dinner in doublet and silk hose.”
The Duke turned up for dinner in doublet and silk hose. He also turned up in a watered silk shirt, a pair of shiny leather boots, a large gold medallion and a silver coronet. He sat at the head of a forty-man banquet table. Arrayed around the table was the answer to the mystery of what had become of so many of West Stanhope’s knights. Dozens of them sat at the Duke’s table, all in fine brocaded woolens and richly dyed leggings.
The Princess, as guest of honor, sat at the Duke’s immediate right. Mennofar, Just Alice and the boy were seated halfway along the table, though Mennofar was obliged to stand on his chair just to see over the table. The rest of the table was filled out with the more senior men-at-arms.
When all the guests had taken their seats, the Duke stood to make a series of toasts. By tradition, the first toast went to the King. The second toast went to the Princess. When they had drunk that toast, the Duke said, “And I think, because of the special nature of the occasion, we should offer a third toast, this one for Her Highness’s fiancé, uh…” He paused for a moment. “I’m so sorry, but it has slipped my mind. What are you called again?”
The boy colored as the entire company of men turned to look at him. “I haven’t got a name, Your Grace,” said the boy meekly.
“Nothing, eh?” said the Duke. He raised his goblet. “To nothing.”
“To nothing,” roared back the Duke’s men, hoisting their goblets. At the far end of the table, a few of them tittered.
“Now, now,” said the Duke. “None of that. Nothing is our guest.” That inspired more laughter from the Duke’s men.
The boy saw the Duke’s eye fall on him, so he nodded in acknowledgment of the toast and ignored the insult.
Footmen brought out the first course. In front of each guest, they set a gelatin mold with the skeleton of a fish floating in it. The boy poked his with a fork. It wobbled a little.
“Fish aspic with intact skeleton,” said the Duke. “A local specialty.”
The Duke’s men began wolfing theirs down with gusto.
“We don’t get any meat, just the skeleton?” whispered the boy to Mennofar.
“The fish is soaked in lye and a special kind of broth that turns the flesh into gelatin,” said Mennofar.
The boy poked the gelatin again. “That’s the meat?” said the boy.
Mennofar nodded. He sliced off a big mouthful and swallowed it. “Ahh…delicious,” he said. “And the bones just melt in your mouth.”
“I think I’d rather have bat,” said the boy.
Just Alice nodded and pushed hers toward the middle of the table.
When the Duke finished wolfing his down, he turned back to the boy. “I am well aware that softness is a virtue among women,” he said. “But I have to wonder if it is possible for a woman to be too soft.”
“I wouldn’t know, Your Grace,” said the boy. “You could ask a sage.”
“I only ask as it would appear that your mother was so soft that she could not settle on a name for you,” said the Duke. “Or perhaps she was too soft to remember?” Several of his men snickered like hyenas.
“Surely you would not ask a guest to speak ill of his own mother,” said the Princess.
“No, no, idle ruminations only,” said the Duke.
“I took no offense,” said the boy, which earned him a little frown from the Duke.
“But what of your father? Did he not have some names to suggest to your mother?” said the Duke. “Or did he worry whether he knew her well enough to take the liberty?” That got some guffaws.
“I prove that he knew her very well,” said the boy.
The table roared with laughter. The knight sitting next to the boy thumped him on the back and said, “Well said. Well said.”
The Duke frowned. “Do forgive any insult,” he said. “None was intended. I assumed your condition was unusual, but perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps I move in circles so rarefied that I don’t even know what is common. Those of us at the top of society are frequently ignorant of the lives of the base.” The laughter was scattered this time.
“You do yourself no justice,” said the Princess. “The common and base are familiar enough, even in some more rarefied circles.”
“How dare you!” hissed the Duke in a voice only the Princess could hear.
“You think I meant you?” asked the Princess, batting her eyes at him. “I can’t think how you came to that conclusion.”
The Duke spun on the boy and said, “Tell me, boy, what is the name of your tailor? I must ask him to work his magic on a garment or two of my own.” Again, his men guffawed.
“Oh, I don’t think you could afford my fiancé’s tailor,” said the Princess offhandedly.
This brought all conversation to a halt. The Duke turned to face her. “And just what do you mean by that?” he hissed. He waited a long time before adding, “Your Highness.”
“When you failed to find any suitable clothing to lend to a weary traveler, I just assumed you were on the verge of bankruptcy yourself,” said the Princess. “As I know that you would never willingly endure such a stain on your honor.”
The Duke could not admit that he had deliberately insulted a guest. Through gritted teeth, he said, “Your Highness has seen right through me. Times are, indeed, tight until the next rents are due.”
“What’s that thing on the Duke’s neck?” whispered Just Alice to the boy. She saw the mark when the Duke turned to talk to the Princess.
“I saw it when I was here before,” whispered the boy back. “It’s a tattoo or something. It looks familiar.”
“It looks like the spade tip at the end of Ludwig’s tail,” whispered Just Alice.
The boy gasped, “You don’t suppose that means—”
“So you two are just now realizing that Duke Geoffrey is the evil sorcerer who summoned the dragon?” whispered Mennofar.
“You knew?” whispered Just Alice.
“He’s the only one with a motive,” whispered Mennofar. “He lets a few would-be heroes get killed, rides in to save the day, marries the Princess and ensures his future claim to the throne.”
“Or his rescue attempt fails and the Princess is killed. He looks like a hero for trying, gets to be the king anyway and is free to marry a richer princess,” whispered the boy.
“That’s a terrible thought,” whispered Just Alice.
Mennofar, however, smiled at the boy. “That is goblin devious, that is,” he whispered.
“What’re you whispering about down there?�
� called out the Duke.
“Nothing, Your Grace,” said the boy.
“Nothing? Or sweet nothings? It is unseemly for a young man promised to a princess to be whispering and giggling with a”—the Duke paused for emphasis—“peasant girl.”
Although Just Alice more or less was a peasant, the Duke made it sound like a shameful secret. The boy jumped up and said, “You take that back.”
“Alice may be a village girl, but she is also a dear friend. And my champion is true of heart. I see no cause for suspicion,” said the Princess. Her tone was airy, but she looked worried.
The Duke smelled blood. He smiled and said, “I beg your pardon, Your Highness. I thought only of your honor.”
“I may need a champion to protect me from the likes of dragons and wicked men, but against scurrilous rumor, I am quite capable of defending myself,” said the Princess.
“Indeed?” said the Duke. Turning back to the boy, he said, “I hope you will forgive a little fatherly advice. Now, when the King grants you a title—Earl of Nothing, perhaps—you must set aside common pursuits, like carrying on with village girls.” This was pretty rich, as it was well known there were few things the Duke liked more than carrying on with village girls.
Mennofar grabbed the boy’s arm in a hopeless attempt to stop him. He was dragged along with the boy as the boy jumped up onto his chair. “You tried to kill the Princess,” shouted the boy.
The dining hall fell completely silent.
“That would be treason,” said the Duke, smiling. “A very serious accusation. I do hope you can prove it.”
“That mark on your neck,” said the boy. “It is the dragon’s mark. Whoever bears the dragon’s mark commands the dragon.”
“Really?” said the Duke. “Having no knowledge of sorcery, I am unfamiliar with this tale. Where did you learn it?”
“The dragon said so,” said Just Alice.
“It’s true,” said the Princess. “I heard it, too.”
“At least we don’t have to rely on the boy’s word for that,” said the Duke. “Did the dragon say I was the one who commanded him?”
“No,” said the Princess.
“Or describe the mark?” said the Duke.
“Well…no,” said the Princess.
“So someone, somewhere, bears a mark that may, or may not, look like the one on my neck and that allows him to command a dragon. Is that right?” said the Duke.
“Yes,” said the Princess.
“And now you are your champion’s champion,” said the Duke. “How sweet. Well, I’ve a hundred men here who’ll swear this is a birthmark that I’ve had all my life.” A murmur went through the room as each man agreed that he would so swear. “So it seems to me that all you have is rumor and guesses.”
“My father will be the judge of that,” said the Princess.
“So he shall. So he shall,” said the Duke. “But I shall judge another matter.”
“What are you talking about?” said the Princess.
“A commoner has slanderously accused a nobleman and member of the royal family of treason, all in an effort to discredit that nobleman and possibly even have him wrongly put to death,” said the Duke. He turned his gaze on the boy. “A most heinous and infamous crime. Remind me, what is the punishment for that?”
“I believe it is death by hanging, Your Grace,” said the Majordomo.
The Duke slapped his forehead. “So it is,” he said. “How could I have forgotten?”
“You are the spawn of the Foul One,” whispered the Princess to the Duke.
“Such language, Your Highness,” whispered the Duke back. Then he raised his voice so that all could hear. “Of course, I could be lenient. I could reduce his punishment to, say, having him branded and exiled. Oh, and some light torture, of course.” The Duke glanced down at his fingernails. “I might be willing to do that…if you were to marry me instead.”
“Never,” said the Princess.
“And if you asked very nicely, I might even forgo the torture,” said the Duke. “I could hardly refuse such a request from my fiancée on our engagement day. If she begged.”
The Princess set her jaw.
“Very well,” said the Duke. “Prepare the gallows.”
“Save him!” urged Just Alice.
The Princess glanced back and forth between the Duke and the boy.
“I accept,” said the Princess. “Now, let him go.”
The Duke turned to the Majordomo. “Did that sound like begging to you?”
“No, Your Grace,” said the Majordomo. “I don’t think she got into the spirit of it.”
“Quite right,” said the Duke. “I would expect begging to be more…” He snapped his fingers, searching for the right word.
“Humiliating?” suggested the Majordomo.
The Duke smiled. “Yes, humiliating.”
The Princess put her hands together and bowed her head. “Please,” she said. A single tear ran down her cheek. “Please don’t hurt him.”
With one hand, the Duke lifted her chin. With the other, he gently wiped the tear from her cheek. “Anything for you, my love,” he said. “Now, don’t forget to thank me.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” said the Princess.
The Duke accepted her thanks with a nod. Then he turned to his men and said, “Take the lot of them to the dungeon.”
Guards grabbed Just Alice and the boy by the shoulders and pulled them from the table. Another lifted Mennofar into the air by his feet.
“No,” cried the Princess. “You said you’d let them go unharmed. You promised.”
“And so I shall, but not yet,” said the Duke. “Do not think me such a great fool as to let them go until after we are wed.”
The Princess wept as Just Alice, the boy and Mennofar were carried out of the room.
Tradition requires that a dungeon be cold, windowless and dank: a grim hole that robs the prisoners of all hope. The Duke was a great believer in tradition. The guards put the boy, Just Alice and Mennofar in leg chains, which they locked to great iron rings in the wall. Quite by chance, the Duke had several sets of manacles in various children’s sizes, so the guards were able to lock Mennofar up as well. The three of them sat with their backs to the wall.
The boy looked down at Mennofar’s ankles, which were already red and swollen. “Does it hurt badly?”
“It burns like fire, yes,” said Mennofar. He smiled his pointy-toothed smile. “Thanks for asking.”
The boy nodded. “You don’t suppose there’s any chance he really will let us go, do you?” There was a long pause. To fill the silence, the boy added, “I mean, once he’s married the Princess, why would he care about us at all?”
“We know too much,” said Just Alice. “He’ll make a big show of exiling us, but our escort will kill us as soon as we’re out of sight.”
“I was hoping I was wrong about that,” said the boy. “Still, something will stop him, right? I mean, it’s not his fate to be king, so he’s bound to fail.”
“Unless it is his fate to be king,” said Just Alice. “He’s the closest male relative to the King. What if by trying to put Princess Alice on the throne, King Julian is the one battling fate? By your lights, it’d be King Julian who’s bound to fail, while the Duke’s bound to succeed, right?”
Just Alice was very good at turning things backward. There was no denying that what she said was right, but it seemed wrong that a man like Geoffrey should be fated to be a king. Only fate did not work this way. It wasn’t about right or wrong. The Three Sisters just drew each fate by lot. It might be Geoffrey’s lot to be king, or it might not. There was no way to know. That was the trouble with fate. When you were sure what everyone’s fate was, everything worked nicely. When you were not, things got confusing fast.
“Maybe we could just escape,” said the boy.
“How?” said Just Alice.
“I don’t know,” said the boy. “Mennofar? Can you help?”
“It would
please me greatly to give that guard a bite he would not soon forget,” said Mennofar.
“No, I mean, can’t you use your vision to see a way out of this mess?” said the boy. “To find some way to escape?”
“What, and ruin all the fun?” said Mennofar.
“You’ve got a strange sense of fun,” said Just Alice.
Mennofar only smiled in response.
The boy put his arm around her shoulder, and they huddled together against the cold. “We’ll figure something out,” he said. He wished he believed it.
Pennants snapped in the breeze. Horses snorted and pawed the ground. Men grumbled about the early hour. Then the horn sounded. The great wooden wheels of the supply wagons creaked as they began to turn. The men-at-arms fell into a marching column. The Duke’s army slowly made its way west down the Stanhope Road.
The Duke was taking the Princess to Farnham to request the King’s consent to their marriage. He was bringing all of his knights and all of his men-at-arms to help the King put this request in context. Large bodies of armed men often proved useful when it came to putting matters in context.
To help the Princess keep matters in context, the Duke brought the boy, Just Alice and Mennofar. The three of them, still shackled, were thrown onto the back of one of the wagons. Several guards rode with them, so they could not talk freely. The boy spent the long, bone-jarring ride watching the countryside slowly change from empty wasteland to snug little farms. He wondered what had become of his great fate. It had never seemed further away.
Oswald the Sage lived at the very edge of town. So when the Duke’s company came to Middlebury, his was the first stoop they marched past. Another man, one not driven wild with worry about the fate of his only child, might have shown more caution when an unfamiliar army turned up on his doorstep. He might have snuck out the back or hidden his money under that one loose floorboard or even just stayed inside, pretending not to be home. Oswald, however, charged out of his house and accosted the nearest soldier.
“Is there news of the dragon?” he said. “He has my daughter as well as the Princess.”
“Go away,” said the soldier, and pushed him aside.
The Goblin's Puzzle Page 14