by Paige Elwood
“She’s always so miserable, and quick to anger,” the girl said. “She yelled at me yesterday because the water in her wash bowl was too cold, but only because she had left it there for too long before using it!”
“I think she’s a sneaky one,” Agata said, her eyes darting round to see who was listening. “I heard that she paid another maid to sneak a letter out of the castle.”
“Why would she need to sneak it?” Sarah asked.
“It was addressed to a man,” Agata whispered, waggling her eyebrows.
“Could he just be a friend?” Sarah suggested.
Agata and the blonde girl exchanged looks and giggled. “You can’t be serious,” Agata said. “Of course not.”
“So, you think she’s having a secret affair?” Sarah asked.
Agata paled. “Don’t say those words, it could be treason!”
“Sorry!” Sarah held her hands up. She didn’t understand the intricacies of what was and wasn’t allowed here. Perhaps it was safer to just listen.
“So, she’s not popular with castle staff, the Princess?” Sarah asked.
Agatha kicked her under the table. “Ouch!” she yelped, rubbing her shin. “What was that for?”
Agata pointed to a woman who had just arrived in the kitchen, dressed in a fine gown. “Queen Elena’s ladies maid,” she said in a low voice.
“The Queen?” Sarah said. “Of this castle?”
“The Bohemian Queen, the Princess’ mother,” the blonde girl clarified.
“Oh!” Sarah said. Silence fell across their little group.
“Why are you dressed like a man?” the blonde girl asked, breaking the moment’s silence.
Sarah couldn’t wait to get changed and stop having to answer that question. “I was robbed by bandits on the way here,” she said, not bothering to elaborate further.
Agata and the girl nodded. “There are a lot of bandits recently. It’s not as safe as it used to be.”
Dinner arrived, and luckily it was a steaming bowl of stew. It seemed to be mostly made of cabbage, peas, and a few chunks of meat that might have been lamb. The hot, salty stew was surprisingly tasty for a simple meal, and Sarah ate it enthusiastically, scraping her spoon against the wooden bowl to get at the last scraps.
Dinner finished, she wandered back to her bedchamber. Relief washed over her when she spotted a couple of dresses and a slip laid out for her on the bed. She picked up the first one, a deep red gown made of fine material. The second, a purple velvet gown with fluted sleeves. They were both absolutely beautiful. Sarah could hardly believe she would be wearing an actual queen’s clothes!
She took off her jeans and shirt and pulled the opulent red gown over her head. It had clearly been designed for a woman who had maids to help her dress, and Sarah had to contort a little to get it fastened. Thank heavens for her years of yoga, she thought.
When it was fastened, she was pleased to see that it skimmed the floor a little and would hide her sneakers. She ran her fingers through her hair, tidying it up a little, and stepped back to see in the small mirror hanging on her wall.
She looked every inch the medieval lady, and the gown fit snugly and accentuated her well-toned waist. She smoothed her hands over the material of the skirt, soft against her palms. The dress was heavier than most of her clothes, and she expected that it would be cumbersome on warm days. It was beautiful, though!
She folded her modern clothes and stashed them under her bed in case she needed them. Confident that she wouldn’t stand out as much in her new clothes, she slipped back out of her room. She wanted to try to find the entrances to the secret passageways that she’d researched yesterday. Or was it the day before? She was losing track of time.
She tried to recall the maps and the locations of the entrances to the passageways. She knew there was one near the throne room and the entrance hall, so perhaps she should start there. She descended the stairs and passed two maids on the way, relieved to see they barely gave her a second glance.
In the hall, she pretended to be admiring the paintings on the wall. The door to the passageways wasn’t visible, so she assumed it must be concealed and not just locked. The wall adjacent to the stairs had thick tapestries hanging there instead of paintings.
She moved across to inspect the tapestries. The intricate detailing was beautiful, but she wasn’t really interested in that right now. She located a spot where two tapestries joined, and she crouched, pretending to do something with the hem of her skirts. She flipped the corner of one of the tapestries back quickly and spied the corner of a doorway. Aha!
She straightened up, her ring tingling again on her finger and distracting her slightly. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled as though someone watched her. She glanced around but didn’t see anyone. She wanted to duck into the passageway, but what if the door was locked? Or worse: she didn’t know who knew of these passageways or what they used them for. It could be dangerous.
It was like standing in front of Pandora’s box, but after some deliberation she decided to be cautious. She’d find all the doors and exits first, then worry about exploring the passageways themselves. She stayed there a moment, pretending to admire the tapestry, and then walked towards the door. Perhaps she’d have better luck searching for the exits first, and it would be nice to see the gardens and maybe even identify a spot for meditation.
The dusk was alive with the chatter of bats, owls, and insects. Gray clouds hung low on the horizon and the air was still. It was warm outside, and tendrils of her hair clung to her neck, caught by perspiration.
The gardens were pretty, with a small pen of goats in the far northwest corner. Sarah presumed they were the secret to how the lawns were kept so neat. She stopped to pet them, but they bleated angrily and bared their teeth, so she backed away. “You smell bad anyway,” she said, sticking her tongue out at them as they watched her with baleful eyes.
“They don’t like strangers,” a voice came from behind her. She spun to see an elderly man with thinning gray hair and rheumy eyes.
“So I see,” she said.
“If you want to make friends, they like bread better than insults,” he said with a grin.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Sarah returned his smile, a little embarrassed at being caught talking to the animals. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“I didn’t give it,” the old man said, winking before walking off towards the castle. He moved surprisingly fast for an old man, covering most of the vast courtyard in a minute or so.
Sarah stared after him, astonished. What a strange character. She continued walking the perimeter of the courtyard, stopping occasionally to admire the stone statues. Some of them had ivy snaking around their bases and creeping upwards towards angelic figures. It reminded her of the ivy that hung from her cottage back home, and nausea settled in her stomach at the realization that she might never see her cottage again.
Chapter 12
The King and Queen of Boheme were finally leaving. They would head back to their kingdom first thing tomorrow morning, leaving the Princess behind. They would, of course, return for the wedding ceremony in a few weeks’ time, but the King had decided that it was high time he returned to his loyal subjects.
Max was pleased to hear of their imminent departure. He worried that the Princess herself might become even more withdrawn without parents there, but maybe it would have the opposite effect? And it could only be a good thing to not have to spend his evenings in the solar discussing politics and comparing kingdoms. He had much more important things to work on.
His work on the Onager had stalled a little with all the sittings for his ridiculous portrait, evenings with two kings, and the time he spent trying to woo the young princess. Well, perhaps ‘woo’ was the wrong word. Mostly, he was just trying to get her to have a conversation. She was a very difficult woman to get to know, and she had a way of keeping an emotional distance that was often quite infuriating. She seemed to be almost refusing to even consider getting
close to Max. He wondered if she would change after the wedding, or if he would spend the rest of his life married to a woman with the personality of one of the stone statues in the castle courtyard.
She had listened and displayed some interest at his astronomy lesson in the courtyard where he told her the names of some of the constellations. Yet the second time he’d taken her for a walk in the courtyard in the evening, she had gazed across the landscape, not even looking at the sky. She’d even had to ask Max to repeat himself on several occasions.
Perhaps he was being too harsh; the poor girl was homesick after all. She would probably warm up a little given enough time.
Now, he just had to find some way to get out of spending too much time being tutored. It was the last thing he needed: what on earth could a tutor teach him that he hadn’t already learned? And even if she could, Max still needed the time to spend on his inventions.
His frustration that he had not yet managed to get to his secret workshop had built to an unbearable level. Yet again, it was almost time for dinner and he’d not progressed on any of his machines.
As he strode toward the dining hall, Max was stopped short by the sound of his mother’s voice drifting through from down one of the castle corridors. He glanced down it to see her speaking to a short man with long blonde hair. His curiosity was piqued. Why would his mother be talking to one of the new servants? He couldn’t be a guard with such a diminutive stature, so it must be a kitchen hand or gardener? Perhaps Henry would know?
He shook his hand, the heat coming from the ring distracting him from his musings. He rubbed at the ring, disturbed by the unnatural heat and wondering what caused it. He was not near any source of heat. The gong sounding for dinner startled him, and when he glanced up the corridor was empty again. No matter, the strange young man was of no concern to him. Getting the final boring dinner out of the way was a much more pressing concern.
To Max’s great delight, the Bohemian king retired straight to his bedchamber after dinner, saying he needed to get to bed early since he was leaving at dawn for his own kingdom. Max attempted to use this as his own cue to leave the dining room, but his mother had other ideas.
“Your portrait is finished. Want to come take a look?” She clapped her hands together in glee.
“I was looking forward to taking a walk,” Max said. “Perhaps it could wait until tomorrow?”
“No, you must come and see it now. I think you’re going to love it.”
Max didn’t have the heart to tell her that he’d already pretty much seen it and had not been overly impressed. He supposed playing along for a few minutes in order to keep his mother happy wouldn’t be too much of a time drain. He followed her to the throne room where two portraits stood covered with heavy black cloths. The second, he presumed, was Princess Katherine's.
“Has the Princess seen hers yet?” Max asked.
The Queen beamed. “She has seen both of them and was very impressed.”
Max tried and failed to imagine Princess Katherine being very impressed with anything at all, but he didn’t want to say that, so he merely smiled.
“Well, then I’m excited to see them too,” he said.
The Queen lifted the cloth on his own portrait first, and Max feigned shock and pleasant surprise at the ‘enhanced’ image of himself.
“Goodness, it’s an amazing likeness!” he said, and his mother’s lips quirked slightly.
She removed the cloth from Princess Katherine’s portrait next. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“Yes, it is almost as beautiful as the Princess herself,” Max said, admiring the portrait.
The painter who had completed Katherine’s portrait had evidently not seen any reason to change what was already close to perfection. The image was a perfect likeness of the Princess, even down to her sad eyes and expression of bored indifference. But even with that, her beauty was as evident as always.
After what seemed like ages, his mother waved him off to go and take his walk. Max hoped that the hall would be quiet enough for him to slip unnoticed into the passageway. His ring began the peculiar burning sensation as he left the throne room and turned towards the hall.
He stopped in his tracks when he saw a pretty blonde girl looking closely at the tapestries exactly where the door was. When she crouched to the floor, she lifted the corner of the tapestry and his heart hammered in his chest. Who was she? Was she looking for the passageways? Was she some kind of spy?
He ducked behind a statue, still watching the girl. She straightened up and then continued inspecting the tapestry before walking away. Had she noticed the door? Or had she simply been trying to inspect the tapestry further?
He couldn’t decide whether this was a bad omen or not. He cursed quietly under his breath. It didn’t seem prudent to use the passageways tonight after someone had been snooping around near them. It looked like this was going to be yet another wasted evening.
Chapter 13
Sarah awoke, the lumpy straw mattress digging uncomfortably into her back. She climbed out of bed and stretched each tight muscle. She really needed to do some yoga and stretch them out. She’d do anything for a memory foam mattress around about now. She used the chamber pot, grimacing at the unhygienic toilet habits of medieval people. A proper toilet to go with that memory foam mattress would be great.
She gazed out of the castle window, noting that the sun was only just beginning to rise in the sky. The sound of hooves and wheels against shingle drew her attention, and she looked down to see an enormous white and gold carriage speeding off through the castle courtyard. The carriage was pulled by six perfectly groomed horses.
The early hour made it difficult to wander around the castle, so she began her morning yoga routine in her room, still wearing her borrowed slip. Sarah began working her way through the familiar sequence, starting in child’s pose and ending on downward dog followed by Vasisthasana. It gave her a sense of comfort in a strange place. By the time she finished the routine her muscles hummed pleasantly, and her breath came deeper and more even.
Today was the day she was supposed to begin tutoring the Prince and Princess, and her pulse hammered in her throat at the thought of beginning lessons. What would she teach them? She didn't even know what subjects she was supposed to be tutoring them in. What if it was math? Nausea roiled in her stomach, but she shook her head and pushed the feeling away. There was not much she could do about it now, was there?
She closed her eyes, imagining herself in her favorite place, her home library, and tried to clear her mind of all thoughts. The quick meditation calmed her quaking nerves, and she decided that she couldn’t change anything. The best course of action was to just take it all one step at a time.
She headed down to breakfast, disappointed when the kitchen hand slapped down a thin watery gruel in front of her. At least, she presumed it was gruel, she’d only read about it before — mostly from the works of Charles Dickens and other Victorian writers. It was basically a thin, bland watery porridge. She was starving, so she ate the entire bowlful, but it certainly wasn't the most pleasant meal she'd ever had. She seriously hoped that lunch would be a little more appetizing.
She got up to leave and passed Agata, who was just entering the kitchen. “Well don't you look fancy in your proper clothes?” she said.
“Actually, this is the queen’s dress,” Sarah said.
Agata gasped and stroked a section of the skirt, rubbing the fine material between her thumb and forefinger. “I thought I recognized it! How on earth did you manage to get one of the queen's dresses?” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Does she know?”
“Of course she does! She gave it to me. I would hardly go around stealing the queen’s clothing, would I?”
“Well you don't look like a thief, but I suppose I barely even know you. You did turn up here in men's clothing after all.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously.
“I am certainly not a thief!” Sarah said
“I know, I was only teasing. I d
idn't think you were really a thief!” She started towards the breakfast table.
“Oh, Agatha!” Sarah called after the girl. She turned, waiting for Sarah to speak. “Can you point me in the right direction for the library? I didn't manage to find it yesterday.”
“Yes, of course,” Agatha said. “It’s left at the stairs and then left again. You can't really miss it. It’s the giant room of books.”
“Thanks,” Sarah said, laughing at Agata’s description of the library.
She followed the instructions. The maid had been right, it was difficult to miss the library. The doors were thrown open already, and the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves could be seen from outside the room. The room was probably three times the size of Sarah's entire cottage. It made her own library, her pride and joy, look like a bookcase underneath somebody’s stairs.
It would take a lifetime to read all of those books. She wondered how on earth anyone would reach the top shelves. Still, even just the shelves within her reach held enough reading material to last her a lifetime.
She browsed some of the titles, relieved to see they were predominantly in English. Many of them were scientific or political tomes, which Sarah only had a vague interest in. She came across no works of fiction, which disappointed her a little, but wasn’t massively surprising. She recalled from her own college days that fiction didn't really become popular until much later. Stories were still mostly consumed verbally in this time.
It dawned on Sarah that she wasn't completely sure exactly what year she was in. She had identified the styles of dress and the castle decor as placing her somewhere in the medieval period, but she wasn't completely certain of the century, never mind the year! She really should try to find this out. Perhaps she could find a way to ask the Prince and Princess without seeming crazy!
She picked up a book from the shelf and began to flip through the pages. It seemed to be a religious book written by a Franciscan monk. Before she had time to read any of the words properly, a cough from behind her startled her, and she dropped the book onto the floor. It hit the stone with a reverberating smack, and Sarah shrieked.