The Swan Kingdom

by Zoe Marriott

  I pulled out the half-finished tunic while I waited for Rose to come back, and occupied myself with stripping that morning’s nettles. I had stopped to pick the stings out and rub salve into my hands when Rose came back, face triumphant. She had a swathe of vibrant kingfisher-blue fabric over her arm, which she shook out to reveal a gown.

  “I almost had to prise this from Lady Suttel’s hands. But it would have suited her very ill anyway,” she said. “She is dark, you know. Dark-haired ladies look sallow in blue. It will look wonderful on you. Come on.”

  She put a shift of soft white muslin over my head, then the dress itself, laced the tight bodice of the gown down my front, and stood back to admire the result. The dress seemed to fit me very well indeed, though the tight sleeves were a little long. I looked down and saw that its low, round neckline exposed an alarmingly large amount of bosom, which I’d never realized I had before. My hands flew up to cover it. The gowns my aunt had made for me never looked like this!

  “Now, now, there’s no need for that,” Rose said, pulling my hands away. “You look lovely. This is the latest fashion! As for your hair…”

  I reached back with the swiftness of long practice, caught my hair and braided it tightly, twisting it into its customary heavy knot at the nape of my neck.

  “Oh no,” Rose said, coming behind me and unravelling my hair just as swiftly as I’d plaited it. “No one has worn their hair like that for twenty years! Just let me…” With a few twists she pulled back the front and top waves of my hair and braided them, leaving the rest to cascade over my shoulders.

  I looked down again at my chest, and found myself hunching over, as if to conceal the excess flesh. But bending only made it bulge, and I straightened hurriedly. I pulled the curling mass of my hair forward and arranged it to cover the low neckline. The results were not entirely satisfactory.

  Rose watched my efforts with amusement. “You’ll draw more attention to yourself that way,” she said. I glared at her, and she burst out laughing.

  Just then another thunderous peal of sound broke over us, and I jumped again.

  “Our meal will be ready in a few minutes. It’s time for us to go down, and for everyone to see you.”

  I gave her a quizzical glance. Her smile was decidedly smug. “Just wait.”

  She led me from the room, in the opposite direction to earlier. We turned a corner and the passage opened out onto a little balcony. The sun had almost set, but there was enough light to illuminate the scene below, and I stopped dead.

  It was the city. The great city of Midland that had once been called the City of Flowers. Spread out before me in an immense sweep, it was a jumble of twinkling lights, sharp silhouettes of white and grey stone houses, and winding roads, stretching into the distance.

  I had failed to make the connection between Gabriel and Rose being Midland’s heir and lady, and the place where Midland’s prince – and his family – must live. Good Ancestors! In my little cottage in the woods, I could have been no more than half a day’s ride from the city – and Gabriel – for all those months.

  This place, this building where I stood, must be the glimmering pearly spike I had seen on my journey with John. I leaned over the edge of the balcony and let myself stare. From afar it had seemed awesome. This close it was unbelievable.

  “Have you never seen the city before?” Rose asked, after allowing me a moment to gawp.

  I held up one finger, then jerked my head and made a sweeping gesture with my hand.

  “You’ve seen it once, but never this close?” she interpreted. “I know how you feel. I can still remember the sensation of awe – almost fear – I felt when I first came here. I’d never been more than a mile from my village, but the old Prince, my husband’s father, was so ill, they’d called in healers from all over Midland. Idiots. It only took me a day to realize he had pink-spot fever, and a week to make him better. But I never left.” She looked at me speculatively. “Do you think it’s beautiful?”

  I nodded feelingly. Then I became aware that leaning over the balcony was making my chest bulge in a most alarming fashion, and jerked upright. Rose laughed at my expression and took my arm. “I’ll have Gabriel show you around the place tomorrow. But we must go down now – they won’t start eating until I arrive.”

  We walked swiftly along another corridor until we came to the head of some smooth white stairs. The sound of many voices all talking and laughing at once drifted up from somewhere below. The steps swept away to the left and out of sight around a curving wall in a fashion I had never seen before. I stared at them curiously.

  “They’re for making a grand entrance,” Rose said. “Would you go down ahead of me, dear? I like to cling to the banister myself.”

  I looked at her askance, but she made a shooing gesture, and since I could not ask what she meant, I took a deep breath, shoved the thought of all those strangers out of my mind, and walked down the steps and around the curve of the wall.

  I found myself stranded conspicuously on a great sweep of stairs above a gigantic banqueting hall. The ceiling arched up in great gilded stone ribs above me, interspaced with high arched windows through which the stars glittered frostily. The far wall was a screen of stone no thicker than an inch, worked and pierced as intricately as lace, allowing the evening breeze to perfume the hall. Brilliantly dyed and embroidered banners hung from the ceiling and walls into the sea of people sat at long tables below.

  There must have been at least a hundred people down there. Servants scurried between the tables with jugs of wine so large they took two to carry them. The noise of talking, laughing, shouting – even some singing – was incredible. I turned my head to look back along the curve of the steps. Rose was nowhere in sight.

  I was not going down there on my own. I gathered up a handful of my full skirts and half turned, intending to run back and find Rose. But before I could take the first step I became aware of a change in the noise below. The clamour was dying down, the chattering voices falling quiet, the laughter fading, until, with remarkable swiftness, complete silence had fallen over the great hall.

  Slowly, I turned my head and looked down.

  They were all staring at me. Every face was tilted up; every pair of eyes was fixed on the blue and red figure that marred their shining white stairs – even the servants were gawking, stopped in mid-trot between the tables. I froze, not daring to move a muscle, even as my mind whirled feverishly. Why did they stare so? What was wrong with me, other than the gaping neckline of the gown? Had I somehow committed some dreadful mistake without realizing it? Why were they staring?

  The stillness of the scene was broken by a quick movement from the shortest table in the room, which stood on a raised dais to my left. It was Gabriel, pushing himself up from his seat, leaping off the dais and striding to the foot of the stairs. He was grinning, obviously waiting for me to walk down to him.

  The look of pleasure and welcome on his face was enough to break my paralysis. I took a deep breath, straightened my shoulders, removed the hand that had unconsciously crept up to cover my chest, and caught hold of my skirts firmly. Then, with every ounce of dignity I possessed, I slowly walked down the painfully long curve of the stairs into the hall.

  Somewhat to my own surprise, I reached the bottom without tripping over my dress, but I was still pricklingly conscious of the dozens of pairs of eyes riveted on me. I kept my gaze firmly on Gabriel as I stepped down onto the pink-veined marble of the floor. His grey eyes shone, and I felt a surge of happiness in response. My awareness of the others in the hall faded away. Let them stare, I thought fuzzily. I don’t care.

  He reached out to take my hand, untangling it from my skirts. His palm closed around mine, and slowly he raised my crabbed, twisted fingers to his lips, and pressed a kiss to them.

  “You’re so lovely,” he said, as if in answer to a question. “They stare because you’re so lovely.”

  I blinked at him, a dozen protests automatically rising to my lips and just
as automatically bitten back. Suddenly I was grateful that I could not speak, and had no duty to deny his words. I just smiled back.

  A deafening cheer went up from the crowded tables. Everyone in the hall was on their feet, stamping and clapping, whistling, waving fists in the air. I gave Gabriel an alarmed look. What was happening now?

  He rolled his eyes apologetically. “They get a bit carried away at times,” he said.

  I felt heat rising in my cheeks. I’d forgotten anyone was even in the hall with us.

  Gabriel held up his hands in a gesture for silence. “Yes! Thank you!” he bellowed. “Quiet, if you please!”

  The cheering died down amid much laughter and scraping as people retook their seats. Rose came bouncing down the stairs to stand beside us. She was a little flushed, as if she might have been laughing, but she returned my accusing glare with bland innocence.

  “I realized I had forgotten something,” she said airily. “But you seem to have managed. Shall we be seated? I’m sure we’re all famished by now.”

  She led the way to the dais and up the two shallow steps to the fine table where the Prince and his family obviously dined. The larger, throne-like chair in the middle was obviously hers, which was a relief. I didn’t think I could have eaten with Gabriel sitting next to me.

  As we sat, the sound of the gong rang out again. “Oh dear, we have kept them waiting,” Rose said. “They’re impatient.”

  Sure enough, within moments, a horde of servants bubbled out of a door to our left, bringing with them delicious smells. They bore giant black cauldrons and silver platters, spreading through the hall to serve the evening meal. One of the cauldrons was brought to the centre of our table, where its lid was lifted to reveal a savoury mixture of potatoes, cabbage, mushrooms and cheese, mashed together and fried. The smell made my mouth water. It was followed by thick, lavishly buttered slabs of bread, baked potatoes filled with cheese and meat or fruit, and by giant trenchers of roasted meat. There were a dozen different vegetables, all dripping with butter. Even for one who ate no meat, there was a surplus of choice. It took all my discipline to stop myself diving on my plate, and I knew even then that I was eating too quickly for politeness. I had not eaten so well since I left the Hall.

  I saw Rose eyeing me as my plate emptied; before I could sit back in embarrassment, she slipped two more fried potato cakes onto my plate, added some buttery mashed swede, and passed me the bread. “You could do with a little more fat, dear,” she said matter-of-factly, returning to her own meal.

  After we had all eaten our fill, the servants came back and cleared away the debris. Then a minstrel played a lap harp and pipes for us with skill and enthusiasm. Several of his tunes were obviously Midland ones, for I had never heard them before, and I enjoyed the novelty. But his final song was, by some coincidence, my favourite: “The Tears of Mairid Westfield”. I found my throat working, though no noise escaped my lips, as the hall filled with voices.

  “The tears of Mairid Westfield

  Were her sorrowful goodbye;

  The tears of Mairid Westfield

  Could have drowned the starry sky.

  For though she gave the warning

  Her love returned too late;

  And the tears of Mairid Westfield

  Could not change her woeful fate.”

  At last, replete and sleepy, the people began to trickle from the hall. Rose yawned delicately and excused herself, waving away Gabriel’s polite offer to escort her to her rooms. “You’re both young enough to enjoy a lazy autumn evening. If Alexandra feels well, why don’t you take her for a walk in the gardens? Show her my flowers.”

  I felt my face burning again at her tone. Gabriel grinned at me and said pointedly, “Goodnight, Mother.”

  “Goodnight.” She winked at both of us. I wanted to cover my face with my hands, but contented myself with giving her another stern look, which she avoided by leaving.

  Gabriel claimed my hand, tugging me to my feet. “Would you like to walk in the gardens? They’re lovely at this time of year.” He added invitingly, “Mother has imported flowers from all over the continent.”

  I hesitated, tempted, then nodded. I was surprised when, instead of leading me towards one of the doors, he went to the far wall, gripped a handle hidden in the fretwork and folded back a section of the stone screen on invisible hinges. The opening led onto a stone-paved terrace, where miniature trees, trained into cone and sphere shapes, grew in brass pots. Their tiny white flowers perfumed the air with a sweet musky scent, rather like night-blooming jasmine. My eyes adjusted quickly to the shadows as Gabriel turned back to close the screen door behind him, and I let my gaze travel upwards to the towering white heights of the palace, smudgy now in the shadows. A black vine rioted over the side of the building, even making it so far as the battlements from which the great tower sprouted. I thought of the damage such a voracious plant would do to a wattle and daub Kingdom house, and shuddered. Why did no one check its unrestrained growth? I touched Gabriel’s arm and pointed to the nearest snarl of black thorns, raising my eyebrows questioningly.

  “You want to know about the prince’s rose?” he asked.

  I felt my eyebrows shoot up still further. Rose? I reached out to touch one of the withered-looking, blackish-purple leaves. It looked like no rose I’d ever seen.

  He took my arm and together we began to walk along the terrace. Dimly in the twilight, I could see the rest of the gardens spreading away beneath us in a series of stacked terraces. They looked like the gently curving inner layers of a shell. As I glanced up at the night sky, I saw three white shapes flitting across the clouds, and was comforted. My brothers were here.

  “The prince’s rose is probably the most interesting plant in the gardens,” he began. “The story says that it was planted by Prince Aelred – the first true prince of Midland, who was granted the lands here after the Long War – when he built this palace nearly eight hundred years ago. Anyway, the rose was supposed to be incredibly beautiful. Golden, with an intoxicating scent. Apparently it bloomed almost constantly during his reign and continued to do so during our times of peace; half the palace was covered with it, and the books say that it looked as if the building were gilded.”

  He looked at me. “Do you know much of the history of the civil wars in Midland?” he asked.

  I tilted my head from side to side and waved a hand. A little.

  He understood, and continued. “The wars started more than a hundred years ago, when Prince Anders died without a direct heir. He chose one of his nephews to succeed him, but unfortunately, just after the prince died, the heir was murdered by poison. There’s a legend that a woman started the fighting – a beautiful woman, naturally – by bewitching the brother of the chosen heir and getting it into his head that he should be Prince instead. So he killed his brother with a potion this woman gave him, and then his other brothers turned on him, and their cousins joined in, and everything went mad for a good long while. History calls the woman a witch but, whoever she was, things didn’t go her way, because the man she’d enchanted was unexpectedly killed in battle and his own men turned on her and drove her away. It’s said she turned into a wolf or a grey fox as she fled, and that the blood of the battlefield stained her pelt red. A nice story.”

  A strange shiver went down my spine. A beautiful woman, adept with poisons, who turned into a wolf-like creature with bloody red fur?

  “What is it?” Gabriel asked, concerned. I’d stopped walking. I gestured that I was fine. He looked unconvinced. “Is your head paining you? We could go back in.”

  I shook my head and managed a smile, motioning for him to continue. With reluctance, he began walking again, and took up the tale.

  “Well, it’s said that as soon as the first drop of blood was spilled, the prince’s rose stopped blooming; the flowers withered away. They’ve never bloomed since. But we leave the vine to grow out of respect for our ancestor who planted it.”

  I was barely listening to him
now. Instead I saw a wolf-like creature, stained red with blood, crawling away into the forests of the Kingdom to lick its wounds. I knew Zella was older than she looked. Was she over a hundred years old?

  “Alexandra?” Gabriel’s voice interrupted my confusion.

  I’d stopped walking again. I realized I really didn’t feel well. My bruised temple was pounding, and I remembered that I had been up since dawn, picking nettles. So much had happened since then; I just wanted to sit quietly somewhere and think. Or better yet, sleep. I pulled a face in apology and shrugged.

  “No, I’m sorry,” he said remorsefully. “I should have known better. Shall I take you back to your room?”

  I nodded gratefully, leaning on his arm as we went back along the terrace and through the hall. In my sudden weakness it was all I could do to make it up the grand sweep of stairs, and eventually, with a muffled exclamation he picked me up and carried me. I was too thankful to be off my feet to manage more than a token protest, which he quashed easily.

  “Stop it,” He said severely. “You’re unwell and you weigh nothing anyway. You’ve not been eating properly. You weighed almost the same when I first met you, and you were a foot shorter then.” He reached the top of the stairs and walked along the passage to the room where I had woken earlier. “You shouldn’t have let me drag out you out into the gardens. I can be an idiot sometimes – but you’re a bigger idiot if you don’t point it out to me.”

  I laughed silently, my face hidden in his shoulder. He could not know how much comfort I drew from being looked after like this. I was very glad that no one was about to witness his display of caring, though. Judging from the reaction earlier when he had only held my hand, the tale would have been all over the palace by morning. Gabriel pushed open the door of my room without anyone seeing us.