by Diana Flame
“Is thither a private kitchen I couldst useth to maketh jam?”
“Huh?” he seemed surprised.
“I am not hath used to twiddling mine own thumbs all day. I wanteth to maketh mine own jam, as present to the king and queen.”
“Thou couldst useth the soldier’s quarters my lady. I shall supervise myself to maketh sure not a one bothers thee.”
“Then bringeth me mine own jars and the oferacs. Eliza shall knoweth what else to bring forth.”
“Aye, Princess.”
“T’is Cinderella, I am not princess.”
He seemed amused. “Yes, my lady.”
As he turned to walk away, Cinderella stopped him. “Markus.”
“Aye?” he turned expectantly.
“Thank thee.”
Chapter 9
Cinderella spent most of the day making her wild oferac jam in the soldiers’ quarters. Markus and Eliza helped her as much as she needed. While all this happened, her mind worked to try and come up with a plan to get out of marrying Prince Tobyn.
Cinderella wanted first to fall in love the way her parents had fallen for each other. Her father often told her stories of their love, from the moment he set eyes on her mother until the day she passed. Cinderella wanted what they had. With Tobyn, she wasn’t sure if she was capable of loving him. He seemed to dote on her and would come to the kitchen every so often to check on her. He even seemed jealous if Markus came close to her. But that did nothing to appease her.
As she’d told Lenora, she would marry on her own terms. Now this marriage was going to be based on blackmail and she knew it was not going to fare well.
She could think of nothing to break the bond. By evening, the palace servants were all busy with the last minute preparations for the ball and Prince Tobyn disappeared. At sunset, she was left on her own to roam the prince’s courts while Eliza prepared her attire and bath.
She managed to venture outside the building and around the far end of the palace structure when she noticed a small building detached from the palace. The entrance was of iron gratings and inside seemed dark. Curious as to what it could be, she edged closer.
When she was close to the entryway, she stopped short at the sounds that greeted her. Someone was being beaten. She could hear the sounds of the horsewhip tearing into flesh. The screams ripped the air as a familiar voice laughed.
“Taketh that gent back to his cell,” the voice of prince Tobyn commanded.
“He needeth a doctor, Sire,” another voice answered.
“Doeth as I commanded thee. He is a peasant and nuthook (criminal). I wilt not waste the physician’s time. That gent wilt soon kicketh the bucket.”
“Aye, sire.”
Cinderella’s mouth hung open. Footsteps started moving closer and she knew they were coming out. The crunching of steps also came from behind and she looked around for a place to hide, as she could not return to where she came.
All she could do was slip behind the structure. From her hiding place, she saw Tobyn exit the building that she found out was just the entrance to the underground dungeon.
He was met by a small contingent in the middle of the yard. Markus was at the head of the group, but his face did not seem pleased. Cinderella watched as a man, stripped of his shirt was thrown to the ground.
“I has't not done aught. I am a po'r farmer, Thy Highness.”
“Shut up!” Tobyn ordered, and the man quickly closed his mouth.
Throwing off his outer coat, Tobyn tossed it to the nearest guard. He then ordered the man to get to his feet. The man, who was older, approximately late sixties, rose slowly. Before he was aware of what was happening, Tobyn punched him in the face. The man reeled, falling on his ass.
“Ouch!” the prince screamed, flashing his hand. “Whither is mine own whip?”
Blood trickled from the man’s mouth. The prince advanced and one of the young soldiers pulled the man to his feet. Cinderella clenched her jaw and her blood curdled in her veins. The heat of anger burned her belly and spread across her chest.
Someone pushed a horsewhip into the prince’s hand, which he used to whip the man across the face. The man bent, crying out in pain. His hand came up to shield himself from another onslaught. Tobyn continued whipping the man all over his body until he crumpled to the ground, curling himself in a fetal position. Even then, the whipping continued. The most disturbing thing about it was the look of pleasure on Tobyn’s face and the gleam in his eyes.
Cinderella was about to step from behind her hiding place when Markus stepped between the man and prince.
“Enough, sire,” Markus said, his voice hard.
“How dare thee? Out of mine own way.”
“He hast done nothing, Thy Highness. I only hath brought him because thee did request it, but dost not thee bethink this is enough?”
“I shall sayeth at which hour enough enough! I can very well whip whomev'r I wanteth.”
That did it. Cinderella moved, her feet hastening, making little crunching noises on the gravel of the courtyard. Eyes turned as she ran into the midst of the throng. Tobyn didn’t seem to realize what was happening as anger darkened his features and he raised his hand to whip the man once again. She screamed as his hand came down. The sound of a woman’s voice seemed to throw off the prince and his whip hovered mid-air.
“Cinderella!” Tobyn’s eyes bulged when they realized she was there.
“Is this the sir to whom I am betrothed? A barbarian?”
“Stayeth out of this. This is not a commoner’s business.”
“A commoner? Just this day thee did request mine own hand in marriage and hath called me princess. Aren’t thee the one who is't insist'd on announcing our engagement this night, and anon, I am a commoner?”
His face tightened as his eyes glinted dangerously. “Out of the way.”
“I shall not marry a sir who is't hast not compassion, who is't whips people f’r not a reason.”
“He is a criminal!”
“I hath heard what Markus hath said. He hast done nothing worthy of being whipped!”
Tobyn was clearly irritated. “Art thee accusing me?”
“Aye.” She stepped close to him. “I shall not marry thee.”
“Thou doth not has't a choice,” he stated.
“Art thee certain of this?” she asked, stepping away and striding towards the palace.
“Cinderella, whither doth thee bethink thou art going?”
“I am off to see thy parents! I shall turn myself in.”
“Thou shall doeth not a thing as such.”
“Thou shall behold wilst I walketh away.”
“Arrest that lady!” she heard him command.
She paused, waiting for the soldiers to move to her. This was her opportunity. She would not wed a man as cruel as the prince, even if it meant losing her head. She waited for the soldiers to advance but no one moved.
“I hath said, arrest that lady!”
Twirling to face them, she looked at Markus who was still standing there, apparently defying his prince. Marching forward she came to stand a breath away from Tobyn. With a sweet smile on her face and venom in her eyes, she lifted her knee and connected it with soft tissue.
“Ooomph!” was the sound that emitted from the prince as he gripped his crotch and doubled over.
With a satisfied smile, she strode over to the commander of the guard and held her hands out. “What art thee waiting for? I just assault'd the prince.”
“Princess….”
“I am not a princess. I beg of thee, arrest me so I shall not has't to marry this an artless, crook-pated puttock!” (medieval insult meaning jerk)
Markus beckoned to his men who slowly came forward, a suppressed smile played on his lips. No one touched her as they escorted her towards the dungeon.
“What is all this commotion?” a thundering voice echoed in the yard.
Cinderella raised her eyes to see King Hughoc approach, dressed in his red and gold royal
robe. His bejeweled crown sat precariously to one side of his head. Just a step behind was Queen Lisbeth. She too was in her royal attire. Surrounding them were soldiers who wore tunics to which Cinderella was accustomed. The color was similar to the attire her father wore as messenger for the previous king, Reginald. These were the first ranked soldiers that served the king.
“Father,” Tobyn said, straightening and stepping forward.
“Son, what is all this commotion? What is going on?”
“Nothing father, just some idle jesting.”
Lisbeth turned her head and looked upon Cinderella. The older woman’s eyes seemed to bore into her. Cinderella dropped her gaze out of duty and bowed slightly.
“Who is't this young mistress?” The queen asked, directing her question at her son.
“The lady ist….”
“I am a prisoner, Thy Highness. I pray thee to pardon my forwardness,” Cinderella chimed in, to the chagrin of the man to which she was supposed to be affianced.
“Mistress, what has't thee done?”
“Nothing mother, the lady wast only jesting.” Tobyn quickly stepped forward, took Cinderella’s hand and pulled her towards him. “The lady is the hoyday (surprise) I mention'd.”
Lisbeth’s face brightened, while Hughoc scowled at Tobyn. The king made a step forward, about an arm’s distance away from Cinderella. His sharp titanium colored eyes scrutinized her from head to feet. His gaze was intimidating, but she lowered her eyes and waited for him to speak.
“What is thy name?” Hughoc’s orotund voice pierced her ear.
“Cinderella, Thy Highness.”
The king stepped aside, facing his son. There, he placed a hand on his shoulder. “Shalt we maketh the announcement tonight at the ball?”
“Ay…,” Tobyn started to reply
However, Cinderella cut him short once more with a shrill cry. “Nay!”
Hughoc looked sharply at her and then back at his son. “What is the meaning of this?”
“I shall not marry the prince, Thy Highness. I would rather be thrown in prison,” she replied in a lower tone.
“What art thee declaring?” It was the queen who spoke.
“I assault'd the prince, twice.”
Tobyn laughed. “T’wast nothing father, the lady is just joking.”
Cinderella fell to her knees at the feet of the king. “I assure thee, King Hughoc, t’wast not a jest. I sincerely doth not wish to marry the prince.”
“How dare thee refuse the hand of the prince?” the king’s booming voice reverberated through the small crowd. His scowl deepened with a fierce look in his eyes.
“I love him not, Thy Highness.” The words flew from her lips and her hand came up to cover her mouth.
“Ha-ha, love? What’s thither not to love? He is the prince of Izadel,” the king declared. “Thither art maidens already at the gate waiting to enter the palace to be chosen. And thee, a mere peasant art refusing the prince?”
“Then if 't be true I may be so forward, alloweth him a bride from the lot, Thy Highness.”
“Is this thy final answer?” Hughoc asked.
“Aye.”
“Very well,” he said, his voice like steel. Beckoning to the higher contingent, he added. “Taketh that lady hence and prepare the guillotine f’r the morrow.”
Chapter 10
“Ha-ha-ha,” a raucous laugh echoed from within the walls of the palace dungeon. This was different from the one where she’d seen Tobyn exit. Apparently, the prince had his own prison cells, which he used to torture the innocent.
Now Cinderella was taken to the main dungeon, which held the criminals of Izadel. At the sound of the laughter, she turned her head to see Isolde grinning from ear to ear.
“Welcome, my sweet,” the woman croaked. “We meeteth again at last.”
To make matters worse, the soldier escorting her placed her in a cell next to her stepmother. The woman made her way to the iron bars separating their cells.
“I kneweth thee would receiveth what’s coming to thee, thou evil wench.”
“Oh, shut the hell up,” Cinderella spat. “Thee doth realize thou art in the same situation?”
“I shall be getting out of hither real soon,” Isolde informed her. “And if't be true thou art nice to me, I can help thee out.”
“Nay. I can be free if 't I wanteth.”
“What has't thee done?”
“Well nothing much. I just refuse to marry yond evil prince Tobyn and I kind of did kick that gent in the balls… twice.”
“Thee blinking idiot!” Isolde screeched. “I kneweth yond temper of yours would be thy downfall.”
“Oh shut up!”
Cinderella was in no mood to listen to Isolde or anyone else. She needed some quiet in order to think. She must formulate a plan to get out of this situation before losing her head. What is wrong with me and mine own horrific temper? Shouldst I accept the proposal and rid myself of this sentence?
Maybe she should just do it and forget what she learned about Tobyn. What was so bad about him anyway? His only fault was that he tortured innocent people, big deal. But the memory of seeing the pleasure on his face and that evil look in his eyes made her blood boil and her temper overflow.
Her disdain for the man had grown a hundred fold in one day and she could not help the explosive anger it brought. What made matters worse was the constant distracted thoughts of Galien. Just then, his smile flashed in front of her eyes and her heart skipped a beat. Not only was it frustrating, thinking about him was futile. She was certain she would never set foot in Black Thorn again, therefore having no reason to get sucked into the portal.
Soon the night descended and she could hear the music from the palace as the ball was in high gear. No one came to check on her, or she would have perhaps sent message that she changed her mind. She could think of nothing that would set her free other than giving in to the marriage.
She fretted for her staff, and what they would do without her. The night in the dungeon stretched on. Isolde fell asleep, giving Cinderella some quiet. Many thoughts ran through her mind but nothing along the lines of freedom came to her. All that was left was to accept her fate. Her temper got her into this. She might as well bear the consequences of her actions.
Sometime later, while all was quiet and even the night creatures had gone to bed, Cinderella drifted into sleep, her last thought was of Galien’s lips as they gently brushed hers.
The morning sun peeped through a small crack high on the wall. This was the only sign that it was another day. The dark musky prison smelled of urine and feces, and Cinderella felt sick to her stomach.
When she rose from the cold dirty floor and looked across to the other cell, Isolde was gone. Her stomach lurched at the thought that they’d taken her stepmother during the night, killed and buried her. Although she and the woman never saw eye to eye, she never wished anything bad for her.
She didn’t have to wait long before she heard the gate open and footsteps approached. She straightened, thinking they were coming to get her. The king had ordered the guillotine prepared for her and she knew it was no joke. A simple mistake concerning the prince was enough to lose her head and she had offended him, not once but thrice.
“Cinderella.” She looked up to see Tobyn. “Thou couldst has't been mine own bride and hath lived happily ev'r after with me. But thou hath chosen this path. I wanteth to save thee, but thee hast offend'd the king.”
“Thy Highness, wherefore (why) art thou come?” she asked, her voice hoarse from the cold of the floor.
“They has't chosen a bride f’r me, but I wanteth thee. Shall thee not accept mine own proposal of marriage, and I will beseech the king on thy behalf? I am the prince of Izadel, prithee (please) doth not maketh me marry someone I doth not love.”
Cinderella stepped to the iron bars and gripped the cold metal. “And what about me?”
“What art thee saying?” he asked.
“How doth I marry someone I doth
not love?”
His face visible fell as he stared at her. In silence, he turned and stomped away. As she watched him leave, her last choice of freedom also departed. Why didn’t she just accept?
Her stubborn nature would not allow her to go back on what she believed. The loathing she felt for the king was strong and she did not wish to subject herself to a life in a palace with such evil people. She knew that as princess she would not be able to tolerate the atrocious deeds they carried out and that alone would get her in trouble. It was better to end it now than some time in the future.
After the prince left, the king’s soldiers arrived and took her away. Once outside, she had to shield her eyes from the glare of the mid-morning sun. They placed a black hood over her face and led her to where she knew was the square.
The hushed tones of murmurs and whispers told Cinderella of the disquiet of the people outside the palace gates. From the tension in the atmosphere, it was apparent that all the people from across the kingdom were gathered there. Cinderella briefly recalled the last time she was at a gathering such as this. A man’s goat had gotten away and spooked the prince’s horse. He’d lost his head much the same way she was about to lose hers.
Someone nudged her to move along. When her toes bucked against wood, she knew she was at the dais. Gingerly, she made the step, her bare feet landing on dry wood. A splinter pierced the sole of her foot and she grimaced from the sharp pain.
“Hark ye, hark ye. T’is be an example to all who wouldst breaketh the law!” the commander shouted, bringing Cinderella a sense of déjà vu.
“Cinderella!” a voice wailed her name. “My lady.”
With the hood covering her face, she was unable to tell who is was, but the voice sounded like Eliza’s. She cocked her ears to listen and she could hear crying coming from her left. A commotion was happening as people started crying out in pain. She could hear the voices of her servants begging to be spared.
She tried to get out of the bonds that held her hands, but they were fastened securely.
“Doth not harm those folk!” she yelled. “I beg of thee.”