by Finley Aaron
Ella sniffled back a sob. “Yes. I’ve inherited them because my mother is dead. She really is dead then. There’s been a part of me that’s secretly hoped, since the very first moment when Madame told me she was dead, that it was a lie. That they’d hidden her, or banished her away, or she’d gone on the trade journey with my father, and she’d return one day. But the slippers never fit before. So she must be gone, then. She’s never coming back.”
*
Winter’s snows came and went. Spring arrived, and with it, Ella’s birthday. She turned sixteen alone in the attic, and I sang to her as she blew out her candle for the night, and went to sleep.
It was a long cold spring, and there was yet frost in the air when Ella’s father and brother returned with no carts, no goods, and just two horses between four men. Gustav had gone with them, as much because he had nowhere else to go as for any other reason. The fourth man was Madame’s cousin, Thomas. Ella hadn’t known before that he existed, but there he was.
They were as ragged and threadbare as she’d ever seen them, and hungry and penniless besides, with colds and blisters and scrapes gone infected, so that Ella first put them in the parlor near the fire, with their shoulders wrapped in blankets and their bare feet in tubs of mineral waters, as warm as they could stand them.
She insisted on serving them hot tea and steaming chicken soup before she’d let any of them tell their tale, which was just as well, because none of them could speak more than ten words without descending into a fit of coughing that went on long enough to make Ella think they might never stop.
But once they’d eaten the soup and she’d tended their sores, and bandaged the blisters and done everything else she could to make them comfortable, Bertie found his voice and explained what had happened.
“We did a fine deal of business in the far east,” he told her, his voice weak. “Prices are down because merchant caravans haven’t been making it through to buy. We knew we’d have trouble coming back because we had trouble going out, but we used your maps and the alternate routes you’ve found over the years. We made it most of the way back, farther than most.” Bertie fought against a cough for most of his last sentence, then devolved into a fit of coughing.
“That’s why they were so hard on us once they caught us,” Robert added. “They thought we were headed east. They didn’t realize until they searched our carts that we were on our way home. They were furious, then. Threw us in prison, seized our goods. Claimed we didn’t have the right permits and licenses.”
“The right permits and licenses?” Ella asked, confused. “The pirates?”
“Not pirates,” Robert corrected. “These were government officials working at the customs offices.”
Ella was perplexed. At worst, the customs officers had only ever charged them a trade tax in the past. “But you’ve been trading your entire life. What paperwork could they possibly need that you don’t have?”
“Oh, they’ve made new rules, but it’s all a sham,” Bertie contended. “They’re purposely blocking everything from going through.”
“But why? What do they stand to gain from that?” Ella couldn’t imagine what withholding cinnamon and silks would accomplish, other than making Madame grumpy.
Bertie and Robert exchanged looks.
Thomas, Madame’s cousin, cleared his throat. “They have good reason. They are within their political rights,” he assured her, with the kind of glare middle-aged men tended to give women when they thought a topic was none of their business anyway.
Ella stood. She knew the signal, and she wasn’t about to argue with the man—to do so would be no more fruitful than arguing with a brick wall. “Let me fetch you more hot tea,” she said, and excused herself.
She headed to the kitchen, thoughts swirling.
Something was up—something huge. Of course, she’d been feeling the pinch from the trade barriers for months, and so, no doubt, had the rest of Europe.
But what good was their dissatisfaction to the kingdoms to the east of them?
And why didn’t Thomas want her discussing it?
Chapter Twenty-One
Ella made the travelers as comfortable as she possibly could, and stretched the limits of the larder to keep them fed. Geese on their way back north for the summer wouldn’t normally have been her first choice for the soup pot, but when she heard them honking as they flew near the house, she didn’t hesitate to grab her bow and arrow.
They ate well that evening.
Bertie was the first to regain his strength, and soon joined her in her work around the house and garden. It was when they were alone cutting hay in the hayfield, where no one could overhear them, that Bertie told her what he knew of the political motivations of the neighboring kingdoms.
“They’re causing unrest on purpose. They want Europe dissatisfied with her kings,” Bertie explained.
“Why?” Ella couldn’t see the sense in it. The whole idea made her nervous, too, because Henry’s dad was a king, and if his people became too dissatisfied with him, they might try to overthrow him and his son.
“To undermine their authority, I suppose,” Bertie guessed. “They’re plotting something—something more than just depriving us of goods.”
“Speaking of goods, what are we going to do about the carts they’ve impounded? The prices of spices in the shops have risen tenfold. If your carts are as full as you say, if we could get them back and sell the imports, our financial difficulties would be over.”
Bertie hung his head and sighed. “If we could get them across the border, yes. But they won’t give them back without the right documents and licenses.”
“Which specific permits and licenses do you need? Did they tell you?”
“Permits to trade in each of the countries we passed through—those have to bear our government seal, and you can’t fake that. They claim father’s merchant license is expired, which sounds ridiculous to me, but they say the rules have changed. I ought to have a license, too, I suppose, if I’m going to have any authority.” Bertie shook his head. “But that’s not even the worst of it. They claim our cart horses have a disease—one I’d never heard of. They confiscated them, quarantined them, and reserve the right to destroy them to contain the disease.”
“Our horses?” Ella asked.
“Just the work horses, not the Arabians, thankfully. But even if we could get the carts, and pay the impound fee, which I’ve no doubt will be substantial, we’ll need horses to pull them home again.”
Ella looked in the direction of the pasture, where their mother’s horses grazed on the new spring hay. “Could the Arabians do it?”
“It’s beneath them. Yes, they could technically, but considering that our last horses were confiscated and may have been destroyed—” he shuddered. “I hate to take the risk.”
“What else can we do, Bertie? We’ve very little money left, and no assets but our land and the horses. Father can’t be a merchant without capital. Even if you could get through to the east again, you’ve no carts to haul goods home in, and even if you bought carts or borrowed them somehow, they’d only impound those as well. Didn’t you say you’d made it almost home?”
“Yes. They took our maps—”
“I still have the rest of mine—”
“Then I can show you exactly where we were.”
“Perhaps we can plot a route for you to come home unhindered.”
Bertie blew out a long breath. “I don’t think they have any intention of letting those wagons through, no matter what the paperwork.”
“Then what are we going to do, Bertie?” Ella asked. “We’ve no other way to make a living. The land is only enough to sustain us, and we’ve got taxes coming due.”
Her brother shook his head. “We could take work in other households.”
“And give up Caprese?”
“You’re little more than a servant here! I’ve seen how Madame Augusta treats you.”
“So you’d rather I be a servant elsewhere? Wh
y would they treat me any differently?”
Bertie sighed. “You’re right. I know you are, but Ella, you weren’t there. They had no intention of letting those carts through. None.”
“But the carts are rightfully ours. They’re our only hope.”
“I know,” Bertie admitted. “And that’s why I intend to go back for them, though I’ll have to have my papers in order—”
“I know someone who can help with the papers,” Ella assured him.
“Do you? Well that’s our only bit of good news.”
While they waited for their father’s health to improve, Ella and Bertie poured over her maps in secret, spreading them flat on the attic floor, and using pebbles and sticks to mark possible paths.
“That bridge is out, destroyed by Saracen pirates.” Bertie placed a pebble over a line on the map.
“That’s a major trade artery,” Ella protested.
“It was,” Bertie corrected her. “They’re doing it on purpose, you know.”
“I can see that.” Ella scowled at the pebbles that marked impeded routes from every possible approach. She turned again to one of her oldest maps. “There’s still this mountain pass along Highline Ridge.”
Bertie groaned, tired of explaining, again, why the road was not an option. “It’s passible at most—at most—six weeks out of the year, and that’s assuming a mild winter, which we haven’t had.”
“We haven’t, but it’s far enough from us, the winter there may have been entirely different.”
“It’s a hundred miles out of our way—”
“Which is why they won’t be guarding it as closely.”
“And that map is a century old! Who’s to say there’s even a road there at all, anymore? None of the newer maps show it.”
“Another reason no one will be watching it.”
“They’re not watching it because it’s not an option.” Bertie shook his head. “Besides, in order to use that road, we’d have to wait until July. It’s April. I say we take the main route.”
“But it has the most checkpoints.”
“It’s also the most direct route, and if our paperwork is in order, the checkpoints won’t matter. Speaking of, we need to get that paperwork.”
By the next week, their father had regained his strength well enough to make the trek into Charmont. Ella dressed as Allard, and hoped, this time, that Jerome would recognize his friend.
He did, and was eager to help, save for one detail, “I can’t get you a government seal, not that many times over, nor even once. The seal’s in the castle. It’s for official paperwork only. I don’t have access.”
“You were the right hand man of the king’s son, and you’re telling me you can’t gain access to the seal long enough to imprint a dozen documents?”
Jerome laughed. “You were Henry’s right hand man, Allard. Can you gain access to the seal?” His laugh faded slightly, and he leaned in closer. “His pennant’s not flying from the turret, because he’s not here on official business, but he is at the castle. Some kind of top-secret meeting. I wouldn’t know, but Sigi stopped by to visit.”
“How is Sigi?” Ella tried to keep her voice casual, and prayed Jerome wouldn’t notice that she’d gone suddenly flush at the news that Henry was just up the hill.
“Taller. Otherwise the same.”
“Still needs a haircut?”
“Always.” Jerome laughed.
Ella thought a moment. “What’s the usual course for obtaining an imprint of the seal?”
“You’ve got to fill out a request, and then the Committee of Commerce reviews it, but they can’t do anything without a majority vote, and they’re half of them gone—something about our trade agreements to the east. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but goods haven’t been making it through.”
“I have noticed.”
Jerome nodded. “Without a majority of the committee, nothing can be approved. Everyone’s paperwork is backed up. There are more steps past that, but none of them matter without committee approval.”
Ella suspected their neighbors to the east had arranged to disable the committee on purpose, or at least saw it as a pleasant side effect of the rest of their intrigues. Whatever the case, it left her with only one remaining option. “Do you know where in the castle the government seal is kept?”
“Of course I do, but—oh, I’m not sneaking in with you.” Jerome shook his head.
“I’m not asking you to come with me,” Ella assured him. “Just tell me where to find it, explain how to use it, and draw up the papers so I have something to imprint.”
Jerome grimaced. “If you’re caught, I have no idea who drew up the papers for you.”
“Of course.”
Once Bertie and Robert had given Jerome all the information he needed to write up their documents, they left him to his work, and went for lunch.
“What are you thinking?” Robert asked his daughter as they sat around a small table to eat.
“I know a way into the castle.” Ella didn’t tell them that the route she knew of led into the stables, wine cellar, and dungeon. It didn’t matter—those parts had to connect with the rest somehow.
“So, what?” Bertie pressed. “You’re going to sneak in, find the seal, imprint the documents, and sneak out again, just like that?”
Ella felt her face flush. On some irrational level, she hoped, somehow, in the midst of her adventure, to find Henry. But of course, that would endanger the entire mission, so she couldn’t let herself be distracted by thoughts of him, or swayed from her course by the slightest bit.
“You need the permits with the seal, don’t you?” Ella clarified.
“There’s no way around it,” Robert said flatly. “If we’ve any hope of getting our carts back, we’ll need those permits.”
“Then I really have no choice, do I?”
By the time they finished their lunch and returned to Jerome’s shop, he’d finished their documents, as well as something else.
“This is a sketch of the interior of the castle,” he explained. “There’s more to it, of course, but I’ve drawn the relevant parts. The seal is located here, in the king’s private office.”
He told her precisely which shelf it would be on, and drew her a sketch of the cabinet, as well. “Now, the office is heavily guarded when the king is in the office, but when he’s elsewhere, say in the throne room or his chambers, the rest of the guards accompany him, leaving only two guards, and they stand facing the throne room, before these two pillars, here, and here,” Jerome indicated their positions on the sketch. “There’s a small staircase that leads up from the kitchen, and opens to the hallway behind this pillar. If a man comes up through that staircase, the guards won’t see him unless they happen to turn around.”
“The staircase leads from the kitchen?” Ella clarified.
“Yes. That’s the route the staff use to bring the king his tea when he’s in his office.”
“Where in the kitchen is the door?”
Jerome tried to describe for her how to find it, but apologized that he’d only used the route a couple of times when he was sneaking a snack, and didn’t know it well. “It’s the far corner, away from the fires. The kitchen is huge, you know. But there’s only one other door in that corner of the room, and it’s the one leading down to the wine cellar. So take the steps going up, not down, and you can’t miss it.”
Ella grinned.
Jerome shook his head. “Not that any of this is going to do you any good.”
“Why not?”
“You’ll never get into the castle, not unless you’re on official business. You may be Henry’s friend, but he’s not officially in town, and anyway, none of the guards know you. I doubt they’ve even heard your name, unless they happen to be fans of the tournaments, and even then, they can’t let you through without authorization.”
“Don’t worry about that. You’ve been a great help. Thank you.”
Ella led her father and brother on horseba
ck through the streets of Charmont, toward the river, where she picked up the path to the healing mineral springs. As the path narrowed, they left their horses tied in an out-of-sight spot where they’d have water and grass, where they might hopefully not get into any mischief.
“We’re going to be late getting back to Caprese tonight,” Ella acknowledged, once they’d established that the horses were secure.
“Madame Augusta won’t be happy,” Robert said gravely, but then his tone brightened. “Then again, she never is.”
Ella’s heart burned with words she wasn’t sure she ought to speak, but they swelled inside her until she had to let them out. “I wish you hadn’t married her.”
“I do feel sorry about that, in some ways,” Robert told her. “But she paid our taxes last year, and Thomas helped fund our last journey in exchange for a cut of the profits, which have yet to materialize. We’d have lost Caprese without her. Thomas lent me the money I just paid your friend Jerome. I’m afraid they’re a necessary evil.”
Bertie joined the conversation. “If we can get the carts back and sell our goods, we can pay off Thomas and you can get rid of that woman.”
“It’s a marriage on paper only,” Robert added. “Given the circumstances, legally, I should be able to set her aside, but we’ve got to have the funds to do it properly, or the courts will award her Caprese as settlement.”
Ella felt resolve solidifying inside her. “I’ve got to get these permits stamped, then. This mission cannot fail.”
As they approached the mineral springs, Ella explained to her father and brother her intended route. “I don’t know how long it will take me to reach the throne room, and then to leave again after. If anyone’s around, I may have to hide and wait until they leave, which could be minutes or hours, there’s no telling. All I can ask is that you stay here and wait for me to return. I don’t know how long that will take.”
“How will we know if something’s happened to you?”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” Ella assured them. “I’m going to be very careful.”
She’d tucked the permits securely inside her vest, next to the inner padding that disguised her figure. They reached the springs. “The two of you really ought to soak in the springs. It will do you a world of good after all you’ve been through, and I’m going to be an hour or two at the very least, and quite possibly far longer.”