by K. C. Herbel
Billy hastily slipped on the tunic. It was remarkable how well it fit. His clothes were usually hand-me-downs from his father, which even after alterations were too big and baggy, or they were gifts from neighbors with growing children, which usually meant they were snug where his body was imperfectly proportioned. As he admired his new clothes, Billy noticed a bit of green showing from under the bed. He reached down and pulled out a beautiful pair of soft suede boots to match the tunic. Without hesitation, Billy tried on the boots. They fit like bark on a tree.
Billy put on the hat and rushed through his door to the central chamber of their suite. Megan, Lady Myrredith’s maid, was busy unwrapping the silvered mirror that her mistress had brought from Dyven as a wedding gift.
“Megan!” said Billy, bursting into the room. “What do ya think?”
Megan spun around and regarded the young man in his new garb. Her eyes smiled as Billy turned around, modeling his gifts.
“About what?” she asked coyly.
“About what?” cried Billy. “Why my new clothes of course!”
“Oh,” said Megan, pretending indifference, “they’re nice.”
“Nice?” exclaimed Billy. “Nice? Is that all . . . Nice? Nice is when ya get your favorite pie on your birthday. These are fantastic!”
“Well . . .”
“They’re practically the best gift ever . . .”
Billy stopped abruptly and felt for the pocket of his trousers, which of course was not there. His eyes widened and searched the room. His stomach tightened as panic began to rise in his chest. “Where are my clothes?” he spouted.
“Your old clothes?” asked Megan curiously.
“Yes!”
“I gave them to Rhianna. Why?”
“My mother’s ring was in the pocket!”
Megan placed her hand on her lips. “Oh, my goodness!” she gasped.
“What?” said Billy.
“She’s takin’ them to the kitchen!”
“She’s gonna wash them?”
“No! Burn them!”
Billy’s face blanched, and instantly he began to sweat. He felt his heart pounding in his neck and ears. He threw his hat to a nearby chair and sped like a crossbow bolt out the door.
Billy cleared the main entrance to the donjon and leapt down the great steps three at a time. As he sprinted and dodged his way between the busy servants, his mind raced ahead. In his mind’s eye he saw Rhianna tossing his clothes into a fire and the clothes going up in smoke along with his mother’s ring. He cursed himself for his carelessness.
John had always sewn in pockets at Billy’s request. It was a good idea for carrying valuables like feathers, pretty rocks, bugs, and frogs. However, at the moment, it seemed very clear that his pocket was not a safe place at all.
Breathing heavily, Billy rounded the corner of the barracks just as Rhianna came out of the kitchen. She was carrying a large platter of food and a pitcher, but no clothes.
“Rhianna!” cried Billy.
The servant girl looked up to see Billy rushing towards her. Her eyes widened, and she quickly backed away, turning to put herself between Billy and the platter.
“Keep away, Billy!” she warned.
Billy continued to advance, and so she took another step back. Unfortunately, in her attempt to avoid Billy’s curse, she brought it upon herself. Forthwith, she tripped over a kitchen dog and went tail first to the ground, with Billy still a good ten feet away.
“Where are my clothes?” demanded Billy, looking down at her.
Rhianna, still dazed from her fall, stared blankly at her inquisitor as the dog licked breakfast from her cheek.
“Where are my clothes?” he repeated.
When Lady Myrredith’s maid still failed to respond, Billy dashed for the door she had just exited. As he reached the entrance, he saw that the kitchen was packed with servants, down to get their lords and ladies breakfast. Billy squeezed his way into the room and pushed through a dozen grumbling servants, trying to reach the large cooking fire.
At last he reached the fire and looked into the blaze. He watched in horror as the flames consumed the last remnant of his trousers. Impulsively, he reached into the fire, but the searing heat forced him back. He frantically searched for a tool. Spotting a small shovel hanging on the wall, he pushed through the crowd, snatched the shovel, and returned to the fire.
“Ow!” shouted a servant as Billy shoveled hot ash onto his foot. “You idiot!”
Billy never looked back but spouted a hasty apology and continued to drag ashes from the fire. The waiting servants backed away from the rising charcoal dust and yelled at Billy to stop. A moment later, someone hoisted him painfully upwards by his ear, and Billy dropped the shovel.
“Get out o’ me fire, ya wee wart!” bellowed the well-rounded woman tugging on Billy’s ear.
“But my ring!” cried Billy, pointing at the fire.
The woman shook a wooden spoon at Billy and continued to tow him away. “None o’ your dribble!” she scolded. “Now out o’ me kitchen!”
The servants crowding the kitchen erupted in laughter as the cook released Billy’s ear and sent him out the door with a swift boot to the rear. Billy rubbed his ear and glared at his expeller. The large woman snorted disdainfully, turned, and bowed deeply to her applauding peers. Without warning, Billy came catapulting over her back leapfrog style.
Rather than booing Billy, the servants laughed and cheered. Billy turned and bowed to his adversary.
“My apologies ma’am, but I really must get to that fire.”
The cook-woman straightened and glowered at Billy with a grunt. He flinched in response then quickly turned and ducked behind the first row of amused servants.
“Come out now, my wee ruffian, or I’ll . . .”
“Now, Dana,” interrupted a man from the crowd, “don’t let that Irish temper get the better of ya.”
The cook turned in the direction of the voice and, putting her hands on her broad hips, gave the speaker a dark look that could wilt an evergreen. “Don’t go tellin’ me about me Irish temper, mister temper of Saxony at the drop of a kettle!”
“Now, woman,” countered the man, “ya didn’t seem to mind my Saxon heritage when ya married me.”
Dana brandished the spoon at her husband and shook it. Her face was red as she slowly marched towards him.
“Because I married ya before I knew of your Saxon blood, ya oaf!” She lowered her voice to a threatening tone. “If I’da known . . . I should’ve married Stephan. He was a liar, but at least I wouldn’t have to put up with a stubborn, ill-tempered, know-it-all husband who loves nothin’ better than tormentin’ his poor, hard-workin’ wife every time he . . .”
Dana stopped abruptly. The kitchen was quiet, except for the sound of water boiling and a few scattered snickers. Her red face became crimson when she realized the roomful of bemused servants hung on her every word.
“What are ya gawkin’ at?” she grumbled.
The servants all laughed.
“Aw bother, the lot o’ya! Enough lallygaggin’!” commanded Dana. Then she turned back to her grinning husband and smacked him across the chest with the spoon. “We’ve got breakfast to serve and hungry lards and ladies awaitin’!”
The man took the utensil from her and spooned mutton hotchpotch onto the platter of a waiting servant. Dana turned and calmly strolled over to Billy.
Billy started to back away, fearing that now he would really catch hell from the large fiery cook.
“All’s well, boy,” she said. “I’m not gonna hurt ya.”
Billy watched her cautiously as she approached. He kept his eyes peeled for an escape route should flight be necessary.
“Now laddie, what’s all this about?”
“My ring,” Billy answered guardedly.
“Yes, what about it?”
“I left it in my trousers,” said Billy near to tears. “The ones my father sewed the pocket into . . . and Rhianna just burned them in that
fire.”
“Oh, I see,” said Dana, smiling at Billy. “Say, aren’t you the boy that caused Danny to drop his tray last night?”
Billy looked at her nervously and shrugged.
“Yeah, that was you. Thought nobody saw ya, eh boy?”
Again Billy could only shrug.
“I tell ya what . . . I’ll help ya find your ring, if . . .” She paused until Billy looked up at her. “If you promise not to make any more messes.”
“I didn’t mean to make all those messes,” declared Billy.
“All what messes?” asked Dana.
“He’s really quite famous for them,” said a voice from behind the robust cook.
Billy and Dana turned to see Rhianna standing in line with her tray.
“That is,” added Rhianna, “at Cyndyn Hall he’s famous.”
“Didn’t ya already take a platter of food, lass?” asked Dana.
Rhianna nodded and lowered her tray to reveal the food on her blouse. Then Dana looked at Billy with raised eyebrows. Billy answered her silent question with a simple nod.
“I see,” said Dana. “Well, just promise me that you’ll try.”
“I promise,” said Billy.
“Where’s that shovel?” asked Dana.
The large cook-woman and Billy went to the fire and carefully searched through the ashes. They searched until long after all the servants had left with their masters’ breakfasts. Dana’s husband and a young serving girl also offered to help.
“We’ll never find it,” muttered Billy.
“Yes we will,” assured Dana. “We just gotta keep lookin’. Gryff, you and Mary come over here. Sift through this pile.”
“Yes, my love,” said Dana’s husband. “We’ll find it. Don’t you worry, lad.”
“That ring is all I have left of my mother,” said Billy, again near tears.
“Then we’ll find it,” stated Dana.
They searched and searched until they were all sure that the ring couldn’t be found. At that moment Rhianna appeared at the door.
“Did ya find it?” she asked.
“No,” answered Billy.
“Not yet,” added Gryff.
“Megan told me what happened, Billy,” said Rhianna. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose your mother’s ring. I didn’t know . . .”
“I know,” said Billy. “It’s really my fault. I should never have taken it off my hand.”
Reluctantly Billy got up and went to the door. “Thank you, Dana. Thank you, Gryff . . . Mary. Thank you all for looking.”
Billy left with Rhianna following behind him. They walked silently back to the donjon with their eyes scouring the ground. When Billy finally arrived at their quarters, Lady Myrredith was waiting for him.
“William,” said Lady Myrredith coming in from the balcony, “where have you . . . Oh no! What has happened to your clothes?”
Billy remembered, for the first time since he had left the room that morning, that he was wearing his new clothes. He looked down and saw numerous black and grey smudges on the front of his beautiful green tunic. He noticed too that his sleeves were dirtied, growing darker towards the cuff. He held up his hands and looked at the blackened palms. He felt hopelessly defeated.
“Come here, William,” said Lady Myrredith shaking her head.
“I’m sorry, Lady Myrredith,” said Billy in tears. “I didn’t mean to . . .”
“I know, William,” she answered.
“Ohhh!” exclaimed Billy, angrily clenching his fists. “I never do anythin’ right!”
“Shhh, William,” hushed Lady Myrredith. “Rhianna, go find some soap and water to clean this.
“Yes, milady,” answered the maid.
“Megan, ready a bath for William.”
“Milady, that may be difficult, what with the weddin’ an’ all.”
Lady Myrredith placed her hands on her hips. “He needs a bath!”
“Yes, milady,” said Megan hurrying out the door.
“William,” continued Lady Myrredith, “go to your room. Get out of that tunic. I want you ready to take that bath.”
“Yes, milady,” answered Billy.
Billy marveled at how, with such commanding speed, Lady Myrredith was able to take control of any situation. He hoped that he hadn’t angered her too much by his little indiscretion.
Within the hour, Billy and tunic were scrubbed clean. This time, when he appeared in his new clothes, Lady Myrredith insisted that Billy put on the scarlet hose. After all, she couldn’t have him “looking like some churlish barnyard oaf.”
“But hose itch me!” complained Billy.
Lady Myrredith said nothing. She simply put her hands on her hips and stared at him. Without another word, Billy returned to his room and emerged once he had donned the red hose.
“That’s better,” said Lady Myrredith with a smile. Then she turned Billy around and started to tie his hair with the black ribbon.
“This tunic’s still wet,” said Billy.
“Well, it will just have to do.”
At that moment, the sound of bells rang out from the inner ward. Lady Myrredith shot a glance towards the balcony.
“Quickly, William!” she said holding out her hand. “We haven’t a moment to waste.”
Billy put his hand in hers, and they were off, Lady Myrredith half dragging him down the corridors and stairways of the keep. They saw only a few others, who were likewise rushing downwards.
“What is it?” asked Billy.
“The wedding bells!” answered Lady Myrredith.
“Has it started?”
“No.”
“What’s the hurry?”
“Before the ceremony can begin they will close the chapel.”
“But surely Lady Kathryn won’t let them start without you!”
“I don’t want to put that to the test. She might not notice.”
Lady Myrredith and her damp companion reached the main entrance hall of the keep out of breath. She squeezed his hand tightly and pulled him through a doorway into a small courtyard garden. Billy was amazed at the energy and speed of his patron when she really needed it. Suddenly they were in front of a large iron-bound door. A guard stood in front of this door with a large poleaxe at his side. To his right and left stood several fully armored warriors, their weapons at the ready.
“Please let us pass!” pleaded Lady Myrredith breathlessly.
“No, milady,” said the guard calmly. “I cannot.”
Lady Myrredith looked quickly around at the faces of the warriors on either side. They only bowed apologetically.
“Blast,” whispered Lady Myrredith.
“I’m sorry, Lady Cyndyn, but our duty will not allow you to enter this way,” said a young warrior who had been hidden behind the others. “I believe, if you hurry, you can still make it to the front door of the chapel.”
“Thank you, Sir Owein.”
Instantly they were off again. Lady Myrredith seemed to go even faster than before as she and Billy ran through the donjon. They leapt down the front steps of the great keep and sprinted around one side. As they turned the corner, Billy saw a large group of lords and ladies gathered around that end of the keep. It suddenly dawned on him that the entire wing of the donjon was in fact a grand chapel. He thought it was odd that he hadn’t noticed it before. Lady Myrredith and Billy fell in behind the lords and ladies slowly crowding through the large double doors of the chapel.
“We made it,” said Billy.
“I’ll feel much better once we are inside,” answered his companion.
Several other latecomers arrived and crowded in behind Lady Myrredith and Billy. Slowly they made their way toward the entrance. As more and more people crowded in around them, Billy began to feel uncomfortable. He felt as if he were being suffocated. Must be these darn hose, he thought.
He looked ahead at the chapel entrance, and the feeling turned from discomfort to fear. The same fear he felt upon seeing the cathedral in Dyven. He had alrea
dy recovered his wind from their run, but suddenly it was difficult to breathe, and his heart started to race. Lady Myrredith looked down at him with an expression of concern. Perhaps she could sense his anxiety, or maybe it was his sweaty, trembling hand.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
Billy shrugged nervously. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do, except maybe run away. In his heart, he really wanted to see the royal wedding, but he also knew that he did not want to go into the chapel for any reason.
They began to climb the many squat steps to the chapel entrance, Billy delaying at each step. Then they were at the top. Billy could hardly contain himself. What must I do? He looked away from the chapel, towards the inner ward. Something on the ground caught his eye.
“Come along, William,” said Lady Myrredith at the chapel threshold.
Billy ignored her and stared at the object that winked with a golden light from the cobblestones not so far away.
“My ring!” cried Billy, dropping Lady Myrredith’s hand. He pushed his way down the steps through the lords and ladies behind him.
“William! William! Come back!” Lady Myrredith shouted after him.
Billy reached the bottom of the steps and never looked back. He pressed his way through the remaining nobles and broke into a run. His eyes scanned the ground ahead for his ring. He reached the site where he thought he had seen it. There was nothing there. He looked in all directions. There was no sign of the ring, or for that matter anything else which could be mistaken for a ring.
“William!”
Billy turned to look at Lady Myrredith. She stood in the doorway of the chapel. Nearly all the lords and ladies were inside now, and the guards were preparing to close the doors.
“Hurry, William!” She pleaded. “Come quickly!”
Billy took a few steps towards her and then started to run. Almost halfway there, he looked back over his shoulder. Again he saw the sparkle of gold on the cobblestones. He stopped abruptly. Billy eyed the spot a moment, trying to focus on it. It could be a ring.
“Come, William! Hurry!”
He desperately wanted his ring back. Billy had to be sure that he wasn’t just leaving it on the ground for someone else to find. Again he ignored Lady Myrredith’s cries and ran farther into the inner ward. He kept his eyes on the spot where he had seen the golden glimmer. It continued to wink at him as he approached. When he was just a few feet away, it winked out. He scanned the area desperately. Then his eye picked up another shiny object a little farther away. He ran to the spot, and again he found nothing. Twice more he thought he saw his mother’s ring glinting in the morning sun, and twice more his search came up empty.