Casimir's Journey

by Lisa Manifold

  “Ingrith! Come at once! He needs bed!”

  His last thought was that it really wasn’t to his benefit to keep passing out in the home of this woman, and then he knew no more.

  Chapter Six

  Casimir awoke. “This is familiar,” he said drowsily. He was in the same room he’d awoken in previously. His face—his face hurt. He remembered how badly it had hurt when he came to the door, and fearfully, he lifted his hands to his face.

  There was stitching, as though his face were panels of tapestry sewn together. He traced the threads from his forehead and diagonally across his face, down to his chin. He let his head fall. A tear streaked down his face. The face that would never be the same. How could he be Casimir with this ugly gash? Well, another ugly gash. This made two, although the one on his neck was healing far more quickly than he’d thought possible.

  He ought to be glad to be alive, once again. Yet here he was bemoaning his lost looks, on the verge of giving up. Again. Just like he felt watching Elspeth walk away.

  As before, Thea’s face flashed before him. She had not given up until the bitter end. He remembered hearing her beg her father for more time, that she was sure things would change and he would discover what mystery lay at the heart of the slippers. He had heard her broken voice assure her father that she could offer nothing. And he knew that she was breaking inside.

  He’d not heard of her death, so she persevered. He could do no less. He sighed deeply. He’d have to get used to it and hope that she would love him still.

  He did not call out for assistance. He was not ready to face Catrin. The journey had been exhausting for all manner of reasons. Not just the physical hardship, but the aching realizations he’d come to along the way. He was not sure he was the man he’d always seen himself to be. He felt sure, his entire life that he had deserved Thea, deserved Gallivas and Ethion, and yet, in a testing, he was not sure he’d done well.

  Crossing his hands behind his head, he considered what to do next. He’d need to heal first, so he could present as decent a picture as possible. Perhaps his hair would grow a bit before he went before the entire country. His musing ended as the door opened with a bang.

  “You’re awake, then. Good.” Catrin had a tray in hand, and Casimir was thrilled to see it contained food. She held it while looking at him impatiently. “Well? Are you going to sit up? I’m not a table.”

  He sat up quickly, and she deposited the tray in his lap. While he dug into the food, she pulled the chair from the wall to sit near him. “Did you find the chapel?”

  He nodded. “Is that where you got yourself injured?” He nodded again, unable to talk with the food stuffing his mouth. Food!

  Swallowing hastily, he asked, “Has Toly been seen to? He really deserves a good brush down.”

  “Toly?” Her eyebrows raised.

  “The palfrey. He’s as good a horse as I’ve ridden. He made it here from the chapel in two days. I didn’t think of him once I had my feet on the ground.”

  She didn’t answer right away. “He’s been cared for. You’re right. He’s a good horse. Why do you call him Toly?”

  “I didn’t know his name. He needed one. He brings to mind the first pony I had, same coloring, and same stoic disposition. Fairly forgiving too, as it happens.”

  “I’m glad you recognize him for what he is.” She leaned back in the chair. “Did you bring what I asked?”

  “You mean you have not gone through all my things to obtain it?” He couldn’t believe it. “How many days have I been sleeping this time?”

  “Two. And no, I do not rifle through the things of others, even if they initially belonged to me. I wanted to hear the tale from you.”

  He peered at her. “You did not think I would succeed, did you?”

  She shrugged. “Many have attempted to liberate items from the chapel. I am sure you saw their success.”

  “Sent by you?” His anger flared swift and sharp.

  “At times.”

  “Knowing they would probably die? At the hands of a man you put there?” His anger flared.

  “Knowing they risked it, yes. You might have died, but did not. Life is always a risk.” She shrugged again, uninterested in his anger. “Where is it?”

  “Where is the pocket that I wore when I came in?”

  Silently, she went to a pile of clothing that was folded neatly on the chest at the foot of the bed. Rifling through it, she pulled out the pocket and stepped nearer to hand it to him. He took it from her and then opened it.

  It was still there, wrapped in some of his torn shirt. Equally silent, he handed it to her. She sat in the chair and carefully unwrapped it. When it was fully exposed, she smiled, and leaned back.

  “You did it. Excellent work, Prince Casimir.” He could hear a tone of deep, deep satisfaction when she spoke.

  “What do you need it for?”

  “That is none of your concern.” She wrapped it back up, so quickly he was not sure it was possible. “You need to sleep more and heal. While it’s not overly deep, the cut on your face was becoming inflamed and filled with pus. I am sure you want it to heal as well as possible. So eat, and then drink the medicine, and sleep.” She stood, moving the chair back.

  “Why are you helping me? I don’t trust you,” he said. No sense in beating around the bush at this point.

  To his great astonishment, she laughed. “Good. You should trust no one. It seems you can indeed learn, and are not merely a puppy at the feet of the court of Gallivas.”

  “What is your complaint with the King Aland?”

  “Also none of your concern. Sleep, Casimir. You need it.” She walked to the door and left, shutting it quietly behind her.

  He wanted to throw her food at her, rage, get onto Toly and leave. But the thought of getting out of bed and exerting himself to such an extent made him tired. It seemed he would do nothing unless it followed her timeline. The thought made him uncomfortable. He noted also that she had not offered him a mirror in which to see the quality of her work. That was something to feel even more uncomfortable about.

  Feeling unmanly and not caring at the moment, he ate his food, and then gulped down the cup of medicine. He wanted nothing more than to sleep and ignore everything.

  He set the tray on the floor, nearly falling out of bed as he did so. It served to show him that he was as weak as he’d feared. He felt certain that Thea would be handling this better, and with that thought hanging over him, he turned over, carefully arranging himself on the pillow, and closed his eyes waiting for sleep to claim him.

  When Casimir woke, the room was empty save for him. This made him glad, as glad as he could be in such a situation. All that had happened was instantly with him, like a suit of armor hindering his progress. He could only move, if he moved the armor.

  He felt better, though. His face did not ache, his body felt something akin to normal, and he tentatively moved his legs off the bed and onto the floor. When he went to stand, they held. He stretched, a move that felt like a habit after his back started to heal. It itched, but not horribly. Perhaps he would indeed live through all this.

  His pride had taken quite a lashing, literally. There was not an inch of him that did not show the effects of the turn his life had taken. While he’d heard the old men say that scars meant one was living, he wasn’t sure he’d agree.

  He looked around for his clothes, finding them clean and neatly folded in a pile on the chest. There was a pitcher and basin on a table, and he gave himself a wash as well. No sense in putting the clean on the dirty.

  Once dressed, he felt more human, more together, and more importantly, ready to face Catrin. He’d done what she wanted, there was nothing more than for her to release him to try to find his way back to his life. The encounter with Theobald concerned him, but he’d tackle that later.

  He opened the door and peered into the hallway. No one moved, although he could hear noise from elsewhere in the house. Probably the kitchen, and he made his way towards i
t.

  Catrin and Ingrith were grinding herbs when he walked in, and Catrin smiled. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling well enough to be up and about. Would you be ready for something to eat?”

  He nodded. She glanced at Ingrith, and pointed him to the table. As he sat, the serving girl placed a bowl of porridge in front of him, along with a steaming cup of hot ale. It all smelled delicious. The kitchen felt warm and inviting.

  Catrin joined him, and they ate in silence. Once he’d finished the porridge, he looked at her. “It’s time for you to let me go. I don’t know what hold you have on me, but I have done as you asked.”

  She didn’t look up as she replied. “It’s not time yet. You have more to do for me.”

  “What? That was not part of our bargain!” He stood, outraged.

  “Sit down. Stamping about and raging will get you nowhere. You will not have nearly as far to go. This part of your journey will take you perhaps half a day’s ride from here.”

  He sat. “Why will you not just let me go?”

  “Because I have things I need that you must get for me! And because I saved your life, you can do these small things for me!” Now she did look at him, and he could see the anger.

  “I did not ask you to save me! I understand that my family is unaware of where my body is, so in saving me and not allowing me to do as I wish, you cause them great pain! Again, by your hand, not mine! My life is not yours to order, no matter how you’ve decided to meddle in it!” He banged his fist on the table.

  “Your life is mine until I say otherwise. Why do you think that no one recognized you? Or do you need further proof? There are still some untouched areas on your back, after all.” She gave him a sly smile as she bent to her porridge again.

  That stopped Casimir for a moment. How did she know? “I don’t know of what you speak,” he said stiffly.

  Catrin laughed. “And you with half your back lashed? Well, at least he went gentle on you. It could have been worse.” She waved a hand. “That is not my concern. You will be free to do as you wish, soon. But this is a price you must pay. Even with no request, when others do for us, we incur obligation. In order for your obligation to be repaid, whether you like it or not, I have requests for you. Once you have fulfilled them, you will be free.”

  “I can just leave.”

  “Of course you can. But when one does not do the right thing, bad luck tends to follow.” She stood, handing her bowl to Ingrith. She turned and left the kitchen.

  Casimir watched her go. What was her hold? She was right—his one attempt to shirk his obligation, whether he liked it or not, had resulted in him being beaten and tossed out of his own home. Was she threatening him that until he did what she wanted, nothing but ill would follow him?

  While he didn’t want to admit it, he did owe her. She had done a service for him, no matter whether he’d requested it or not. He did not want to be in her debt for longer than necessary, so it was better to do as she asked and be done with it.

  Sighing, he stood, and followed her from the kitchen, nodding his thanks to the serving girl. She bobbed a curtsy as he left. He went to the open doorway where he’d seen Catrin go. The room was small with herbs hanging from the ceiling.

  “You are right. I do owe you my life. I did not ask for it, but you gave it anyway. I will do as you ask, but you must assure me that this will not go on for an eternity. There must be an end.”

  “There is an end, Prince Casimir. I give you my word.” She looked straight at him, and he believed her. He did not trust her, but in this, he believed her. He hoped that he would not regret it.

  “What is it you wish me to do?” He kept the impatience out of his question.

  “Half a day’s ride from here, in the center of Gallivas, there is a small cottage inhabited by a woman named Melasine. She is outside the village of Turistin. Do you know the village?”

  He thought about it. “Yes, I do. You’re right, it’s not far from here.”

  “If you go to the village, they will point you to her cottage. Once there, you will tell her that you are from me, and that you wish to collect the cup and platter that are mine. She’ll tell you that they are not, but tell her, from me, that I wish for them back. You may need to…” Catrin stopped, tapping her finger on her lips. “Well, you might need to haggle with her a bit. How are your skills of bargaining?” She eyed him speculatively.

  “Bargaining? I’ve never bargained for anything in my life! Princes do not bargain,” he said.

  She sighed. “Then this may actually be the harder of your tasks. You will not get far with her by just presenting yourself and expecting her to hand over the wares. This is not life as you know it, Princeling.”

  “I am well aware of that, Catrin,” Casimir said dryly. “Nothing since you took me has been life as I know it.”

  “Well, learning to adapt to life and new situations would be something that I think behooves a prince, don’t you?” She smiled at him.

  He didn’t respond. She smiled wider, which told him she was laughing at him.

  “Very well, I ask for the cup and platter, and then I haggle with her as one might in the market. Then what?”

  “Bring the cup and platter to me.”

  “Will we be quits then?”

  “I cannot tell you.”

  “That is not right, Catrin! I told you there must be an end. This is not an open-ended quest for me! You have no right!”

  “Calm yourself. I swore to you that I would not keep you bound to me forever. I can tell you that your time with me is coming to an end, but I will not give you the exact hour.” She turned back to the mortar and pestle and began to pound something in it.

  “I can see I have no choice. When shall I leave?”

  “Whenever you feel ready. I have all the time in the world,” she answered, still not looking at him.

  “Then I shall leave today. May I have provisions again?”

  “Of course. Ask Ingrith in the kitchen. She’ll get you what you need.” Thump, thump, thump as the pestle ground the herbs down.

  He nodded and left the room. He could barely control his anger; anger at her for keeping him, anger that she was right about his obligation, and at what she implied if he ignored the obligation. Damn the woman.

  In the kitchen, Ingrith was bent over scrubbing a pot. He cleared his throat, and she jumped and faced him.

  “Might I trouble you for some food? I am going on a journey for Catrin and need perhaps five days of victuals.”

  “Of course, sir. I will put it together for you now and bring it to you.”

  “I thank you. I will be in the stable.” He stalked from the kitchen. Yelling at a girl who was already nervous would get him nowhere. He went back to his room, avoiding looking into the stillroom where he could hear the thump of the pestle.

  There was not much to ready, but he packed all the clothing he could find and took a linen from the bed as well. Given his propensity for getting wounding, he’d need something more than what was left of his spare shirt. He also looked in the saddlebags. The mixture for darkening his skin was still there. Not that he looked anything like himself anymore.

  He walked back down the hallway and out the kitchen door to the stable. Toly whickered at him as he entered.

  “Yes, it’s me again, boy.” He patted him on the nose and checked to see if he had been cared for. Catrin had not lied. Toly appeared well kept. He looked around and found the saddle he’d been using and lowered it into Toly’s back.

  Then he added the saddlebags. As he was cinching them tight, Ingrith came out with a good sized bundle. He took it from her, pleased at the heft of it. “Thank you, Mistress Ingrith. I will be even more thankful as I travel.” He bowed to her, and she curtsied and scurried from the stable. What did Catrin to do inspire such timidity and fear in the girl?

  He shook his head. That was a mystery for another time. He led Toly out into the small yard and finished securing the food to the back of the saddle. Mounting, he tu
rned Toly toward the road.

  “Once again, off, like an errand boy.”

  “At least you leave,” said a gravelly voice.

  Casimir whipped his head around to see the speaker. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

  “Least you’re leaving. Not all do,” said the man, walking to the stable. This must be the one taking such good care of Toly. “If you have to come back to this cursed place, you better make sure you can still leave once you get here.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  The man didn’t respond, but disappeared into the stable. Casimir was still for moment. All these hints that Catrin was even worse than he assumed...he felt a chill creep over him. Shaking himself slightly, he turned back to the road. Creepy she might be, but he had no choice at the moment. He needed to see this through. It was, however, one more reason to be wary and very specific with her.

  There was no one on the road when Toly stepped onto it. He’d never enjoyed traveling alone before. He wouldn’t say he was enjoying this, but he certainly moved from place to place faster without a full retinue along.

  Turistin was a simple ride, although Casimir was getting the impression that nothing would be simple. It was merely another trick that Catrin played. Allowing one to be lulled into security and then yanking the security away.

  He passed a few people on the road, and they exchanged nods as they moved by one another, but unlike the previous journey, nothing delayed him. By late in the afternoon, he had reached Turistin. It was a good size, but not too big. Catrin had said that he needed to ask where Melasine’s home was. Hoping she had not set him up for some sort of failure, he stepped into the tavern.

  It was not overly busy. Many of the villagers would still be in the fields, and Casimir was glad that there were not many people. He approached the bar where a man was standing, eying him.

  “Good day, sir,” said Casimir.