Casimir's Journey

by Lisa Manifold

He sighed. “I accept your terms. I will do as you say and in return I will get my life back.”

  “If you succeed.”

  “If I succeed. What am I to do?”

  Catrin pushed off the sill, moving to the door. “For now, you will rest. You need some time to recover your strength. The past few days have been taxing, and I am feeling generous, in spite of your churlish behavior. You need all your faculties at your command, so take your rest.” She opened the door. “I shall return tomorrow, and we will discuss what you need to do.” The door shut firmly behind her, and Casimir heard the snick of the lock turning. She had locked him in. That frightened him even more than when he’d felt the stitches in his neck.

  He leaned back on his pillow. He had initially thought Catrin a good woman who used her magic to help those truly in need. In conversing with her, he no longer felt that had been the motivation. There was something more at play here. Something sinister. His well-being was of no interest to her. He could tell, although with no definitive proof, that he was merely a means to an end. She used him to further whatever her goal was.

  The thought scared him to death. He swung his legs out of bed and attempted to stand. His legs felt very weak and unsteady, and he leaned against the window to keep himself upright. After breathing heavily for a few moments, he tried the window. It was locked, and he could not see how to unbolt it. Next he tried the door, but it was indeed locked. The trek around his chamber exhausted him, and he braced himself against the door briefly. Breathing heavily, he struggled to get more air into his chest. His neck felt stiff and sore. He knew he needed to rest.

  Finally, finally, he felt able to take a step back to the bed. Then he took another, and another, before stumbling forward and falling. He barely made it to the bed, and thanked his luck that he had not fallen short and cracked his head.

  He pulled himself up onto the bed fully and gave himself over to his desire to move no more. Spent, he lay unmoving. Before long, he fell asleep.

  ***

  Casimir awoke suddenly, sitting up in a panic, hands scrabbling for a sword. He felt around the bedclothes frantically, stopping abruptly when a cackle broke the silence of the room.

  “What do you seek, Princeling? Whatever it is, you will not find it there. Or anywhere close by, I should think.”

  “Catrin. I didn’t know where I was initially.” He sat back, attempting to relax, or at least look that way.

  “Clearly.” Her voice held amusement. Casimir felt she was laughing at him, rather than with him.

  “Have you come to a decision on the task I must complete?”

  “Tasks, my dear prince. One is not enough. One will not show your depth of conviction. No, there will be more than one task. You must do them one at a time.”

  “Well of course I must do things one at a time. What are they?”

  She laughed. Loudly. He thought she sounded as a cawing crow. “Let us start with your first task. Once you’re done, then we’ll talk about the next one.”

  “Why can’t you speak plainly? Why must everything be vague? Tell me simply what I am to do, old woman!” He pounded on the bed.

  She didn’t reply. He glared at her. He leaned back again, and did not speak. She would have to speak first.

  “There is a chapel twenty leagues from here in the Kingdom of Ethion. It is in the middle of the Blanchewood Forest. Do you know of it?”

  He nodded. He’d heard nothing good of the Blanchewood Forest. In addition to the tales told to scare children, bandits were said to reside there. It was not a place anyone went by choice.

  “You will find the chapel. There is a knight who guards the door. He’s mad, you know. All because of that divine thing you call love.” She smiled evilly at him. “Well, regardless of my thoughts on the matter, this knight seems to feel that spending his life guarding the body of his love is a worthy task. You must get to this once fair maiden’s body and bring me the ring he gave her, along with the finger it still resides on.”

  “What?” He gaped at her. Surely she didn’t expect him to go snatching at corpses?

  “Yes. I need her betrothal ring and the finger it’s on.” She gazed at him calmly.

  “Whatever could you need such a thing for? How can you ask me to desecrate a corpse or disturb a man who has devoted his life to the memory of his one true love? Are you mad?”

  “Not at all. I need the finger bone and the ring. It’s simple. You wish to gain something from me, so I must receive something in return. I am telling you what I need. You are free to decline the transaction.” She looked out the window in apparent unconcern.

  Casimir’s mind reeled. He’d heard of the chapel. The tales his nurse used to tell him had the knight swinging an axe madly at anyone who dared to enter the chapel. He guarded the long gone betrothed in the nave where they were to have wed. Her death, so the tales went, had driven him mad.

  “My nurse used to tell me that tale as a child. You believe such nursery drivel to be true?”

  “He is there. He was not an old man when he shut himself and his lady off from the world. He was young, as you yourself are. Plenty of time to live on to become a nursery tale.”

  “How am I to get there? I have no clothes, no provisions, no horse.”

  “I am not cruel, Princeling. I shall clothe you and seat you. You shall have all the provisions you require.”

  “You must disguise me as well.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Everyone thinks I am dead. I cannot traipse through my own nation, alive and well. Someone might see me, and I would not be able to complete the task.”

  “I thought you wanted to return to your life, Prince Casimir.” He could tell she was mocking him.

  “I do. But according to you, I must honor an obligation to you first. I will be better served if I am not recognized as the prince of the realm.”

  “You will have to figure that out on your own. It is none of my affair. I am being generous enough as it is.” She turned to the window, ignoring him again.

  “Very well. I shall sort it out on my own.”

  “Provide me with a list of all that you will need, and I will have it ready for you when you’re able to travel...say a week from now?” Without awaiting his response, she moved to the door, her feet seemingly not moving beneath her gown. Casimir wondered how such an evil woman could move with such grace, and he hated to admit it, beauty.

  He nodded, as he couldn’t trust himself to speak. He was so angry with her, he was afraid he might say something that would have him suffering even more greatly.

  She smiled. He felt she could see right through his forced calm.

  “Should you require further supplies ring the bell. Someone will attend you.” She left, closing the door softly behind her.

  Casimir let out a breath. How was he going to disguise himself in Ethion? Everyone there knew him. His face had been plastered all over villages from the time he was born. While she didn’t name it as such, this was his first task.

  He struggled to remember his lessons in plants and herbs. There had to be something that would disguise his face. Suddenly, he thought back to his father’s marshal. He’d been speaking on the importance of being able to move undetected in a hostile environment. What was it he’d said?

  Casimir thought so hard he was sure he was sweating. When he touched his brow, however, it felt cool and dry. He took a deep breath. This was a sure sign that he moved toward panic, and panic solved nothing. He took a few more deep breaths, hoping to stave off fear and the inevitable poor decision that followed.

  The marshal had spoken at length on moving undetected. The key, he’d said, was to be forgettable. Casimir needed to make himself look like a cotter, a villager, just another face in the crowd.

  He’d need to be sunburned. A cotter would spend a great deal of time in the field, and the effects of that would show on his face. So, something to darken his skin? Walnut juice, perhaps? He would need to look and smell as though he had not ba
thed in quite some time. Someone working in the field all day would not be able to spend much time on grooming.

  Worn, but cared for clothing. One thing he’d noted when he’d gone to the villages with his father in his youth was that those who did not have many items of clothing cared for what they had.

  The filth was another story. While his parents were rather enlightened, as were most of the courts of the neighboring countries, the idea of bathing on a regular schedule had not made it to most of their people. Some of the elders even loudly decried frequent bathing as the devil’s work. So, he would need to fit in and be unwashed.

  He sighed. He didn’t like being ungroomed, but there was no way around it. Be forgettable. Which meant one had to look—and smell—like everyone else. No better and no worse. Beggars were often forcibly removed from villages, so he would have to be careful not to appear too ragged.

  Better to appear as a simple cotter, one who was merely traveling. He’d have to come up with a reason for the travel, as well. Most regions in Ethion had their own dialects which were not so unique that travelers could not understand one another, but different enough that your speech marked where you were from.

  Casimir and his brothers had been schooled in all of the dialects and could converse easily with anyone from their kingdom, but sounding like he’d come from one particular place? His father and tutors had worked hard to see that he and his brothers had no specific accent.

  Which, upon reflection, felt rather sad. He pushed the thought away and returned to the task at hand. He’d have to decide what his tale would be. Everywhere he went, he would need to have a story, a reason for travel, and a place he came from. Otherwise, those around him would close ranks, perhaps even see him as a threat.

  Such a thing would get the guard called, and Casimir hauled off to the palace.

  Wait! Wouldn’t that be a good thing? If he were taken to the king, he could just explain his situation, and this would be over.

  He nodded to himself. That is what he would do. Get himself deeper into Ethion, move several villages in, to ensure that Catrin would not hear of his actions. Well, hopefully not right away. He did not discount the speed with which gossip traveled.

  Then he would declare himself the prince which, given his poor state of presentation, would result in great disbelief. He would insist on being taken to the king. While skeptical, the local guard had no choice. They would take him to the king. He would explain all, and this would be done in a trice.

  No need to go to the chapel, risk his life with the mad knight, nothing. He would go back to Gallivas, and puzzle out the mystery. Perhaps his father might let him speak with the court astrologer, see if there were any signs or portents that would be of assistance.

  Lost in such thoughts, he could feel the gloom from the past day beginning to dispel. Catrin might think she held the upper hand, but he knew that he did. Let her think what she wanted to think and say what she wanted to say.

  In the end, he would be free, and she and her desire for a moldy bone could go hang. He would go to Thea, and they would live the life they were meant to live. He smiled. His father would be proud. No Crown Prince of Ethion would be captured and cajoled by the whims of a mad woman.

  He begin to put together the list of items he would need. When he rang the bell later, it was not Catrin who answered. A small girl came in, and bobbed a curtsy.

  “Am I to give you my list?” He asked. He’d meant to be rather imperious in speaking to her, but she was tiny, and he didn’t feel right lording over such a petite girl.

  She nodded, still not speaking.

  He told her the herbals he wanted. She nodded several times, and then scurried out the door. He hoped she would remember.

  ***

  One week later, Casimir found himself looking through the window of his room. Until today, he hadn’t felt up to more than sleeping. The one time he’d looked at the window before, he was more interested in escaping through it than looking out it.

  It didn’t look to be anything grand, this little cottage. It was small and rather crude looking from what he could see. He wondered why she needed a maidservant for such a small dwelling. It was another mystery—he shook his head. He had enough on his plate in regards to mysteries and solving of problems. There was no need to add Catrin to the list.

  He would need to work hard to disguise himself. This meant he would need to cut his hair and do it poorly. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed. His hair was full and well-shaped. Cutting it would mean he had months before it got to a proper state again.

  Casimir chided himself. Fussing over hair like a woman! More important matters were at hand, like how to proceed in order to get free of whatever Catrin had planned for him.

  The little maid came in, pushing the door with her backside and causing it to hit the wall behind it with a boom. Casimir jumped up and hurried to her, arms out to take the tray she carried.

  “May I have shears, or something to cut with as well as the clothes I asked for? I don’t think going about in my night dress would be appropriate,” he said with a smile.

  She returned the smile hesitantly, and giving over the tray, hurried from the room again.

  She seemed almost afraid. He could feel his mind beginning to ponder her and stopped. No more mysteries than he already had. Looking around the room, he found a small mirror so he could see himself as he applied the herbs.

  He found the black walnut paste easily. Too dark, though. Weld would add the touch of yellow and ease the black tinge. He added water to the paste first, hoping to dilute it. He pulled up the sleeve of the nightdress and dabbed some of the watered down mixture on his arm. Rubbing it in, he saw the color was lightened, but still too dark. He needed some madder to add a bit of red as well.

  Adding first the madder and then the weld, he slowly brought out a color that seemed realistic. He rubbed it on the upper part of his arm and waited to see what it would look like dry. After a time, he used water to try to remove the color, but it didn’t come off. That was good. He wouldn’t be bathing much, if at all, but he couldn’t have his skin tone washing away should he get wet.

  Slowly, slowly, he began to color his face. He took the time to cover his ears and his neck using the glass to see them as best he could, rubbing the color in deeply. His neck would be more visible once he cut his hair.

  While his face dried, he worked on his hands. He made them a bit darker, as there would be more wear on the dye on his hands. They got wet more often and were rubbed more often. He’d need to take the dye with him. He made a note to ask the girl for a small container for any mixed dye he had left over.

  Taking the raw supplies would be a good idea as well. That way he could mix more should he find that he needed to touch up his disguise. Another thing to ask the girl for.

  As if called, she came back in and handed him a pair of scissors. “That will have to do,” he said. They were a little dainty for hair. “Thank you. May I also ask for a container to carry my mixed herbs in, as well as pouches for the various ingredients?”

  She was gone in an instant, and he felt bad for running her back and forth. His father had always taught that there was no reason to be anything but kind to those who served you. They often worked far harder than anyone realized. Casimir excused himself with the fact that he had not provisioned himself in this fashion before, and that the first time was bound to be a bit more labor intensive.

  “Hope to never have to do so again!” He said jokingly to himself. He was sure madness approached, as talking to oneself was a sign of such.

  Taking a deep breath, he held the glass up and put the scissors to his hair. It was foolish to be so silly about hair, but he could not seem to help himself. Missish or no.

  The first snip brought a large hank to the floor. He stared at himself in the mirror. Quickly, he cut through the rest of his hair. Once he’d made it all the way around his head the mirror came up for inspection again.

  In spite of all fears,
it was not bad. Not at all. He didn’t say that out of vanity. It looked less raggedy than he’d suspected. Using the glass, he snipped and trimmed around the edges of his hair.

  He couldn’t disguise his looks. His face was what it was. He could make himself look a bit plainer, a bit more careworn. That would allow people to overlook his resemblance to the Crown Prince.

  The shortened hair showed him where he needed to apply more dye, and he worked carefully to cover up the pale skin. It looked even paler in comparison to the darkened hue of the walnut paste. It threw him off a bit to see this man looking back at him in the glass.

  His musing was interrupted by the return of the girl. What he hadn’t expected was Catrin to come in behind her.

  “Your clothes.” She dropped a bundle onto the bed. She gave the girl a jerk of her chin, and the girl scurried out again.

  “Your serving girl seems most cowed.” He kept his voice neutral.

  “She understands how I wish to run my home,” Catrin replied. He glanced at her. She didn’t seemed offended at his comment in any way.

  “It’s clear she understands,” he muttered. Catrin said nothing, only smiled.

  “What else will you need to begin your journey, Casimir?”

  “You’re being surprisingly helpful. I thought you didn’t approve.” He squinted at her. Something had to be amiss.

  “I don’t. I have, however, realized that your stubborn insistence has the possibility to provide me with a great deal of entertainment. You are certain that you are smarter than I, that you will outwit me and get what you want on your terms. Initially, the thought angered me, I must admit. It amuses me that you don’t see the irony. You are angry with me because you feel I stopped you from honoring your agreement with Aland, but you have no compunction in planning to break your agreement with me. I shall enjoy watching you fail.”

  His mind raced. Did she know of his plan to turn himself in to his father? She could not! He’d not breathed a word for fear of discovery.

  “You doubt my word? Fie on you, madam.” He was pleased that he kept his voice calm with a hint of derision.