by Clare Smith
He hastily checked the contents of the bag he had stepped on and gave a sigh of relief that nothing was broken, only slightly squashed. Quickly he found a mixing bowl and following Plantagenet’s instructions began adding powders from the small packets that had been in the bag. He knew he should weigh each powder carefully as Plantagenet had instructed him but he was running out of time so he guessed the quantities of each ingredient and hoped for the best.
When the powders were well mixed he divided the mixture in half and placed each half into two small silk parcels and put them in the deep pocket of his grey robe which he had pulled on over his outdoor clothes. The robe was already far too small and when he glanced into the long mirror by the door he looked like he was wearing a sack stuffed full of turnips, but it couldn’t be helped. He pulled a heavy cloak around his shoulders, bundled his shirt and breaches under his arm and slipped out of the small side door locking it behind him.
With his head bowed he quickly crossed the courtyard and entered the kitchen by the side door noticing that the scrap buckets were still empty. He remembered this part of the palace well from his days as houseboy and could tell by the sounds and smells that the court was still at dinner although it must have been almost finished. If the princess had already left the table he would be too late and all their planning would be for nothing.
He thought fleetingly of the two magicians waiting for him to return and what they would say when he confessed he’d fallen asleep and failed to do what they had agreed. With renewed determination he hurried away from the kitchen and down the first flight of stone stairs to where the door of the Cellarmaster's room stood slightly open. Nobody went into the cellars without the master’s permission and he prayed that the Cellarmaster was elsewhere as he opened the door just wide enough to sneak through and close it behind him.
"What in hellden are you doing here boy?" demanded the Cellarmaster from his chair in a dark corner.
He was a big man, heavily muscled from rolling barrels around and endowed with a red nose and ruddy complexion from sampling too much of the produce in his care. Everyone knew his moods swung wildly from morose to euphoric and either way he terrified every page and squire in the palace. Jonderill jumped with surprise at the sound of his harsh voice, his mind working furiously as he gave a brief bow.
"I am sorry, sir, but my masters have sent me to fetch some grain spirit and some honey cordial to ease their cold."
The Cellarmaster stood and eyed him suspiciously. He put a tankard down on the table beside his chair and picked up his cane of office. "Have they now? And does that give you the right to come creeping in here without my permission?"
"I'm sorry, sir," muttered Jonderill, "I thought you were out."
"Don't let it happen again!" bellowed the Cellarmaster in his notorious, bull-like roar as he clipped Jonderill smartly around his ear with his cane.
Jonderill's head rang with the blow and his ear felt as if it had been cut in half. "No, sir." He knew that one way or another it would definitely not happen again.
The Cellarmaster moved to the shelves built along the far wall and looked along the row of stone flagons for grain spirit. Whilst he was looking Jonderill took the opportunity to glance at the table in the centre of the room where the Cellarmaster prepared the drinks to be taken into the royal household. He gave a quick sigh of relief when he saw the princess's silver flagon of honey mead still in its place waiting to be collected by a footman.
"Stay here, boy, whilst I go and fetch my good friends some of my best grain spirit from the cellar."
"Yes, sir," replied Jonderill meekly.
"And don't touch anything or you’ll not sit on your backside for a week!" bellowed the Cellarmaster from the door.
"No, sir."
Jonderill waited for the Cellarmaster's footfalls to fade along the corridor and then quickly emptied the contents of the first packet into the honey mead. The grey powder floated on top for a moment and then dissolved, leaving the mead clear and golden. He repeated the process with the stone jug of cordial next to it, which would be consumed by the princess's maids when they had finished with their mistress’s needs. He just hoped that the powders would work, despite the hurried mixing; otherwise he was in real trouble.
The Cellarmaster returned and thrust a small jar of grain spirit into one of Jonderill’s hands and a large flagon of honey cordial in the other. He turned Jonderill around and pushed him roughly out of the door before slamming it behind him. Jonderill gave another sigh of relief and made his way along the palace corridors to the place Animus had told him to go. He was fortunate that Vinmore was such a peaceful kingdom otherwise there might have been guards at the end of each corridor, or even worse, outside the doors he needed to enter. If that had been the case their plan wouldn’t have worked but the only guards on duty were the two standing to attention outside the studded doors which led into the grand central tower and the royal apartments.
Jonderill knew both the guards well. The senior was a long-serving veteran who drank at The Soldiers Rest and had a reputation of being amongst the most diligent of the king's loyal men and the other was his best friend. It might have been easier if it had been some other guard then his lies wouldn’t have mattered so much. As it was he was worried that his carefully constructed story wouldn’t be convincing to someone who knew him as well as Barrin did, even if he had heard the rumours that were circulating about him. Worse than that, he knew that the part he was about to play would almost certainly result in the ending of their friendship. He thought about changing his story but it was too late to think up something new.
"Halt!" commanded Lowis, bringing his halberd across the door. "State your name and your business."
Jonderill stopped and gave Lowis a brief smile. "It's me, Jonderill."
"Hello Jondi, what you doing around here at this time of night?" The younger of the two guards smiled in greeting but still dropped the tip of his halberd to cross over that of his companion. "Shouldn't you be seeing to Plantagenet and Animus? I hear they're both down with a cold."
"They are," said Jonderill brightly. "They sent me to the Cellarmaster to fetch some grain spirit and honey cordial but by the time I got back they were both fast asleep and they don't look like they will move again until morning. So I thought instead of wasting the drink and an unexpected night off, I would go and share both with a friend."
"I'm not off duty for another two candle lengths but I will catch up with you then if you can wait that long," said Barrin enthusiastically.
"I know," said Jonderill. "But this is another friend who I thought might enjoy my company."
Barrin looked hurt and raised a quizzical eyebrow. "And which friend would that be then?"
Jonderill looked coy and blushed slightly. He knew the rumours of his supposed relationship with Maladran would be all over the palace by now and it wouldn’t take much for people to jump to conclusions. "He's a new friend but he said he liked me so I thought if I could get him to have a drink or two with me he might spend the night with me or at least go for a walk afterwards."
Barrin turned away in disgust and Lowis looked at Jonderill as if he were a hound turd.
"I suppose he’s some little page boy with gold hair and pretty looks," spat Barrin.
Lowis pulled back his halberd and opened the door. "If I 'ear yer've been up to yer dirty ways against the boy's will I'll make sure yer never do it again, whether yer turn me into a stink toad or not."
"Thanks, Lowis," muttered Jonderill, quickly ducking into the open doorway before the guard had time to change his mind and refused him entry.
He felt sickened by what he had done. It wasn't so much the reputation which would now follow him wherever he went but the way he had so easily lied to Barrin and destroyed a friendship which meant a lot to him. He stopped just the other side of the door and waited for it to shut behind him.
For a few moments he fought with his conscience but then realised that for the next few summers at lea
st, neither his supposed preference for young boys nor the loss of Barrin's friendship would matter one way or another. When this was all over and if it all worked out well he promised himself he would do everything in his power to put things right with Barrin and if it didn’t work out well it wouldn’t matter, he wouldn’t be returning to Alewinder anyway.
Jonderill set off again down the carpeted corridors which were only vaguely familiar. Whilst he’d been in the royal apartments only the previous day he remembered very little of its layout, his mind having been in turmoil from the events which had just taken place. He knew the king and queen had their apartments on the upper levels of the central tower because that was where the balcony overlooked the square but he knew that the princess preferred the lower level which gave access to her private garden.
Hoping that she hadn’t changed her mind he hurried passed the staircases leading upwards and kept his fingers crossed that by going straight on he would eventually come to the hallway Animus had described to him. When he reached a large open area with benches against the walls and rich tapestries displayed between the many doorways he felt completely lost. Fortunately Animus had for once thought ahead and had anticipated his difficulty, drawing him a plan which he now drew from beneath his robe and carefully followed.
The cream and gold door of the princess's room looked no different than any of the others around the hall so Jonderill stopped to recount the doors again just to make sure he had chosen the right one. He put his ear to the door but could hear nothing so he pushed it ajar and crept inside. It was just as he remembered it from the time he had seen the room through Maladran’s scrying globe.
The walls were dressed stone the colour of honey inlaid with pearl shell decorations and overlain in places with three bright tapestries. All the furniture was made of rare blanchwood, highlighted in gold leaf and covered in bright cushions and heavy drapes covered the glass doors which led to the enclosed garden with the decorative pond. A thick sea-green carpet covered a polished weiswald floor which had been bleached to the rich colour of sweetnuts. The sheer beauty of the room stopped him dead and he looked around him in absolute awe.
"Don't just stand there with your mouth open, stupid boy," snapped a cutting voice from an adjoining room. "If you've brought a message from those two imbeciles about this awful mess spit it out and then get out of here."
Jonderill jumped, not expecting anyone to be there and then stammered some half intelligible words of apology. Daun came to the archway from her dressing room and stood defiantly with her hands on her hips and a look of disdain on her face. Her long sunshine hair fell to her waist and her body looked lean and lithe beneath her flimsy, carelessly tied robe. Jonderill stood rooted to the spot, unwilling to move a muscle in case the beautiful apparition disappeared.
"Well, what do you want?" she snapped.
Jonderill stammered uncertainly. His mixing of the sleeping powders had been careless but surely he’d not been so far out that there had been no effect on her at all? "Er.... I've brought you this." He held out the jar of spirit and the flagon of honey cordial. "I thought you might be upset still and be unable to sleep."
"Of course I'm upset. How would you like it if you knew you were going to be nearly trampled to death by a horse and then go to sleep forever? With that as my fate I don't want to sleep ever again." She took two imperious steps into the room and looked curiously at the stone jar he carried. "What’s in there?"
"It's grain spirit. You mix it with the honey cordial and it makes you feel happy and warm inside."
"Then pour me some and let's see if it works, I could do with feeling happy for once."
Jonderill put the two containers on the table next to a silver tray and noticed, with some relief, that the princess had not touched her honey mead. He’d never handled grain spirit before although he’d seen Barrin’s father pour small tots for customers at The Soldiers Rest. He had no idea how much was needed to make someone too happy to care what was happening to them but guessed it had to be at least two tot’s worth. Carefully he poured half a goblet of the potent liquid, added some of the honey mead for good luck and passed it to the princess. She grabbed the goblet from his hand and swallowed it down in one go, giving a slight cough and gasp at the end as the potent drink burnt its way down her throat to her stomach.
"My father won't let me drink this but I can't think why." She held out her glass for Jonderill to refill. "Pour me some more, boy."
Jonderill did as he was asked and watched as Daun swallowed the drink down in the same manner as the first and then held the goblet out again. He refilled the goblet, conscious of the flush that was spreading from Daun’s exposed throat onto her creamy cheeks. She emptied the goblet, only a little slower this time and held it out once again.
"Do you know, my father says it's rude to drink by yourself?" She walked to the table, swaying slightly and sat heavily down in a chair. "When I'm queen I'll drink this all the time because it makes me feel nice and everyone else can drink boring old mead." She poured him a goblet of the pale amber liquid, carelessly sloshing it over the table and handed it to Jonderill.
"No thank you, Your Highness, I'm not thirsty."
Daun pouted sullenly. "If you don't drink then I won't." She slapped the goblet onto the table and giggled as the drink splashed over her fingers.
Jonderill looked at the drink and wondered how potent the powders would be; not very he hoped as he refilled her goblet with grain spirit and honey cordial and handed it to her. With a smile he raised his goblet in salute and swallowed the pleasantly sweet mixture down, watching Daun do the same over the rim of his goblet. Her cheeks were very flushed and she seemed to have slipped down in her chair making her robe ride up around her thighs. He poured her another goblet of grain spirit and she poured him some mead, getting more on the table than in the cup.
"My father won't let me do anything," she slurred, after once again draining her goblet. "He won't let me drink grain spirit or ride my horse or go into the city without lots of guards trailing behind. It's not fair, I bet you can go and do whatever you want."
Jonderill nodded and then smiled broadly as a sudden idea came to him. "How would you like to go into the city right now?"
Daun looked extremely pleased with the suggestion. "Can I go by myself without anyone else trailing behind me?"
"No, you'll have to go with me and in disguise as well but I promise I’ll show you all the best taverns and you can drink as much grain spirit as you want."
"Nobody will know except you and me?"
"Nobody, it will be our secret."
Daun stood unsteadily and giggled. "You'll have to help me dress because my legs have gone all wobbly and my hands won't do what I tell them."
Jonderill gratefully left the remains of his mead, feeling somewhat light headed and put his arm around the princess's waist as he helped her to a long couch where she sprawled half on and half off the decorative lounger. He’d never undressed a girl before, especially one who seemed to have no control over her limbs and giggled every time he touched her. By the time he’d dressed her in her riding clothes and a long thick cloak and had hidden her long hair down the back of her tunic she was almost asleep.
The effort had left him sweating profusely and feeling decidedly peculiar. He wasn’t sure if anyone would come and check on her so he cleared up the mess on the table and stuffed some pillows into her bed to make it appear as if she were asleep. After that he changed into his shirt and breaches, turned the lamps down very low and as a final measure he left a small rolled parchment next to her bed. Tomorrow the king and queen would find her gone and he could only hope that they would accept the fact that she had been secreted away by the magicians to where Maladran would never find her and not have the Vinmore army tearing the kingdom apart looking for their daughter and her abductors. He hoped their promise to return the princess on the day of her wedding would be of some comfort to them.
With difficulty Jonderill lifted the prin
cess from the couch and supported her under her shoulder as she stood on her shaky legs. She looked at Jonderill through half closed eyes and smiled sleepily but before she could collapse back on the couch he had her walking to the door. He opened the door far enough to see into the corridor which was still empty and with an effort he helped her along the carpeted walkway, passed the grand staircase and stopped at the closed door to the royal apartments.
He was glad her rooms were on the ground floor of the tower and not the top as managing stairs would be almost impossible, especially as she was getting heavier and heavier and her knees had begun to buckle beneath her. As he stood at the guarded door he was supporting nearly all her weight with his arm around her waist and her arm over his shoulder. He pulled her hood as far forward as he could to hide her face and opened the door.
Lowis turned around and gave Jonderill and his friend a stern appraisal whilst Barrin looked away in disgust. "And where d’yer think yer goin'?"
Jonderill grinned sheepishly and rested the weight of the hooded princess against his knee. "The squire's drunk too much so I thought I would take him outside to freshen him up a bit.
"'E looks like 'e's dead drunk to me. 'Ere let me 'ave a look at 'im."
Jonderill stepped back slightly and almost lost his grip on the cloaked figure who slid nearly to the floor before he could retrieve her. "He's shy." If his lord finds out his been with me he'll get a thrashing or worse."
"Pity you didn't get one long ago, it might have changed your ways," suggested Barrin, stepping closer.
"I'm going to be sick," groaned the princess in a slurred, miserable voice.
"I think I’d better get the squire out of here," said Jonderill, heaving the body back into his arms.
"Yer damned well better. It's bad enough having the likes of you here with your perverted ways without him puking up all over the place."
"Go on, get 'im out of 'ere," commanded Lowis. "Take 'im to the stables and throw some water over ‘im, that will bring 'im 'round."