“What's the matter, Drinian?” Constance asked, noticing his strange expression as Woodphere pulled out a white wrap and spread it across her face.
“Nothing! You look so different with only your blue eyes and long eyelashes showing. We can’t be too careful! Here, take my dagger with you too,” Drinian said handing her his weapon.
“Do you really think I need this?”
“Well, you seem to have a knack for getting into predicaments. I seem to recall you getting lost in the woods, and bitten by a snake, not to mention your encounters with Copper and Reagan!”
“I guess you’re right about that,” Constance smiled as she started walking toward the Molter camp.
“Do you think she'll be alright?” Drinian said, after Constance was out of earshot.
“Constance can take care of herself” Woodphere replied, easing himself to the ground.
“Do you feel I've been stepping in when she does not need rescuing?”
Woodphere did not reply.
“Do you think I was trying to impress her?”
“Do not ask me Your Majesty, ask yourself,” Woodphere replied.
“My only motive was keeping her safe.”
“Your Majesty, if I am not mistaken, you have feelings for Constance,” Woodphere said looking up at Drinian.
“Maybe I do” Drinian replied, staring at the ground. “But how could that happen in only two weeks?”
“It did with me, with Kathryn.”
“Was Kathryn as beautiful as Constance?”
“Indeed she was, and it’s astonishing how much they look alike.”
“When did you first realize that you had feelings for her?”
“After the snake bite I was so scared that I was going to lose her. I don't even know why I like her so much. She’s so stubborn sometimes, but she’s brave, smart, and beautiful too!
“Why wouldn’t you like her? Those characteristics are very attractive in a woman,” Woodphere replied.
“I’m sure she thinks I am a stuck up selfish Prince.”
“I wouldn’t say that, Your Majesty. I’m sure she care for you.”
“I hope you’re right,” Drinian sighed as he sank to the ground beside Woodphere.
***************
Meanwhile, Constance cautiously entered the camp and soon spotted a merchant. “Hello, I would like to buy some clothing, please,” Constance said, as she approached a middle aged merchant with a pointed beard.
“What is to your liking?” The merchant asked, directing her to the women's clothing.
“I will take a red face veil, but show me what you have in men's clothing too.”
The garments were Molter style, made of high quality material with bright and vivid colors. “I will buy two white shirts, two black trousers and the veil please,” Constance requested.
“Alright, here's the deal. Ten shillings for trousers, eight shillings per shirt, and six shillings for the veil,” the merchant replied.
“No, I will give you five shillings per item.”
“I will give you the trousers for eight, the shirts for six, and the veil for five.”
“I'll take the veil, but nothing else unless you come down to five.”
The merchant gave Constance the veil, but something caught his eye.
“I will give you anything you want of my merchandise, if you give me that pretty jewel that's on your belt.”
“No, I can't part with this precious gift. Either come down to five shillings or I'll go somewhere else.”
“No! Do not do that, I will give you what you want. Here!” said the merchant handing Constance the clothing and seizing her money.
“Thank you! It was a pleasure doing business with you,” Constance replied, as she picked up her purchase.
Suddenly Constance heard a loud cry near the outskirts of the camp. Stopping, she glanced over to see a mother holding her young daughter. Curiously, a man stood beside them with a large needle in one hand, and a ring in the other. The mother was trying to calm the child, but she only screamed louder.
“May I ask what are you doing?” Constance asked as she marched up to them.
“You have two eyes, use them. We’re getting ready to pierce her nose,” the man replied sternly.
“But she's only a little girl, you can't do that.”
“And why not? Her sister got her nose pierced when she was only one! And why are you interfering? Don’t you have your nose pierced under that veil?”
“It's not about me, it’s about this child. Please, don't you see that she’s frightened and doesn't want you to do it?”
“Of course she wants it, but she's scared of the needle,” the man replied.
“Please wait until she can make up her own mind,” Constance begged.
“It is easier when she's young! Now may I continue?” The man asked looking down at the child’s mother.
The woman looked somberly at her little daughter who sat whimpering on her lap.
“Martina, do not listen to that girl! She doesn’t know what she's talking about! I have been piercing noses longer than I can even remember.”
“Lars, this young lady is right. Let us wait until she is five, and then she will want it done.”
A frown suddenly came across the man’s brow as he stomped off, kicking up dust.
“Thank you for understanding,” Constance spoke with a soft voice
“No, thank you, for helping me make the right choice,” the woman replied.
Constance smiled at the little girl and was continuing on her way, when without warning she was jostled and shoved by men who were frantically clearing the street!
“What is going on?” Constance shouted at an older man who was rushing by.
“Princesses Penella is coming! Now get out of the road or you will be trampled!” ordered the man.
Constance quickly stepped from the street and gawked as a litter came into view. “Out of the streets for the Princess, the daughter of King Taybayeere has come!” shouted a short man as he walked in front of the procession with a horn at his side.
A smug, proud looking young woman sat perched on the litter. She was dressed in red silk, and was covered in jewelry of gold and diamonds. Her brown hair hung long over her shoulders. As the litter came to a stop, the princess stepped down onto a platform in front of her. She appeared very sober, as she looked over the silent crowd and began to speak.
“People of Moltavia, I have come here today to you to tell you of my new proclamation!” she said her voice high and rich. I have revoked the charge of killing the blood relation of King Simian. Therefore, Molters shall no longer seek the blood of Prince Drinian. Eight years have passed since my father’s death; may he rest in peace. I believe Prince Drinian, if he’s even alive, has suffered long enough for his father killing our own precious king.”
What would the princess do if she knew that Drinian was not a mile away? Constance wondered.
“Why should we give up!” yelled a man from the crowd.
“Why should he be excused from his father's murder of our king!” shouted another man.
“If he's not killed, he may plan an attack on us and our families!” cried a women.
“Silence!” shouted the princess’ servant.
“My dear people, what I have said I have said. You will not change my mind. But, take comfort and don’t worry about a thing. That foolish Prince Drinian is not going to destroy you!
“Now as for you young single women who are under five and twenty, and are older than six and ten. You shall come with me to the castle!” Princess Penella finished, with a sneer on her face.
With that, Princess Penella stepped back onto the litter and watched as her servants began snatching young ladies from the crowd. “Why is she taking them?” Constance asked the old man beside her.
“Princess Penella is taking them back to her castle, where she will beautify them for three months, and have them married to her advisers and soldiers. Princess Penella comes
every year and gets five new girls; it is a great honor to them. You should know this already?” The man replied giving her a quizzical look.
“I'm only passing through with a small group.”
“Of course, I should have known. You have the sound of a native tongue.”
“Excuse me?”
“I imagine that your under five and twenty and are older than six and ten. I bet you wish you could go and find a handsome soldier to marry. Or you may even get lucky and marry an adviser.”
“No thank you,” Constance replied.
Nearby a servant grabbed a young woman who was screaming frantically. “Please, no, I don’t want to go. I love another! Adreile, help me!”
“Porsha! No, let her go! We are to be married in two months!” yelled a young man rushing to the young women's side. The servant did not listen, but struck him a severe blow to the head with his gold walking stick! The youth toppled to the ground and lie still.
“How could you do that you horrible, horrible monster! I'm never going with you; I'd rather be dead than be separated from my beloved Adreile!” Porsha screamed.
“Stop! Let me talk to my daughter, before you take her Your Majesty,” said a man, raising his voice over the crowd.
Princess Penella nodded her head, “Say what you must, but make it short!”
“Porsha, remember it is a great honor and privilege to go with Princess Penella. Now I will hear no more of your screaming, or I will be ashamed to call you my daughter,” the man said sternly.
Constance could not believe what she was hearing. How could a father do that to his own daughter! Something must be done about it! She struggled to get through the crowd. Finally breaking free, she sped up the hill to where Drinian and Woodphere awaited her.
“Constance what is wrong?” Drinian asked, as he stood and met Constance as she reached the top of the hill.
“Drinian, you must stop them at once!” Constance exclaimed in between breaths.
“Whatever is the matter, stop who?”
“Princess Penella! She's down at the Molter camp taking girls from their families and loved ones. They are to be married to complete strangers! One girl was even engaged and they took her from her fiancé! He tried to stop them, but the servant knocked him down! Please Drinian we have to stop Princess Penella!”
“Princess Penella is this close? Certainly we must stop her,” Drinian replied, grabbing his satchel and sword from a large rock.
“Your Majesty, you can’t do that,” Woodphere exclaimed.
“Why not, Woodphere? We cannot let this happen,” Drinian replied.
“We cannot do anything to stop her! She is a princess, just as you are a prince who has the right to make decisions. If you chose to do the same as Princess Penella and take girls from their home, Princess Penella could not stop you. You cannot stop her either.”
“Can we at least try?” Drinian asked.
“If you remember Your Majesty, Princess Penella may still be trying to kill you,” Woodphere replied as he stood to his feet.
“Woodphere, Moolow said that the search for me was off, and I believe him.”
“Moolow was right. Princess Penella has revoked her claim for Drinian. I just heard her with my very own ears,” replied Constance.
“Princess Penella may have changed, but I am sure there are still Molters that would very much like to kill you, Drinian.”
“I know, but let us take our chances.”
“Your Majesty, I must insist that for your and Constance’s safety, you do not continue until Princess Penella has left the Molter camp.” Woodphere said, rubbing his bald head.
“I guess you are right, Woodphere. We’ll wait until Princess Penella is gone, then we shall travel through the Molter camp,” Drinian replied.
“Drinian, we can't let those girls be taken!”
“I will make sure that they aren’t forced to marry. I will talk with my advisers as soon as we reach Castle Melody. How does that sound?” Drinian asked.
“Alright,” Constance said, as she looked up at Drinian.
“Now where's the clothing you have brought us?” Drinian asked.
Constance opened the parcel and handed Woodphere and Drinian their garments.
“So, how did you do with bargaining?” Woodphere asked.
“Very well! The merchant was tough, but I finally wore him down to my price.”
“Excellent,” Woodphere said, as he took the clothing.
****************
Soon they were changed into their Molter attire, and readied themselves to go into the camp. “Are you nervous about entering into the Molter camp?” Constance asked, as they made their way down the hill.
“Not really, I hope the Molters listen to Princess Penella.”
“I should warn you Drinian. A few Molters didn’t seem too happy with Princess Penella’s decision.”
“I assumed that not all would give up trying to kill me. That is why we must be careful.”
“Do you think anyone will recognize you?”
“I hope not with all this mud on my face. Do you think I look like myself?”
“You look like... Drinian with mud on his face.”
“Daisy and clover leaves, I did want to look a little different,” Drinian sighed in disappointment.
“I was only joking,” Constance replied.
“We’re coming into camp. Now try not to stand out, and don’t talk any more than you have too,” Woodphere replied soberly.
“Drinian promise me that you will try as hard as you can to stop this,” Constance whispered, as she observed several women wailing from the loss of their daughters.
“I will do all I possibly can.”
Just then Constance spotted one of the men who had disagreed with Princess Penella. He was sitting on a stool making a rope when he noticed the three approaching. He quickly stood and started walking their way.
“Excuse me,” said the man walking up to Constance, Drinian, and Woodphere.
Constance stood there fearing the man would recognize Drinian! Please God don't let him recognize us, Constance prayed.
“It looks like you’re not from here. Where do you come from?” the man asked while chewing a wad of tobacco.
“I am from Canada, and am returning back to my uncle. These two friends are escorting me, so please let us pass,” Constance said, trying to sound confident.
“My, you must be a rich little lady to have escorts,” the man replied rudely.
“You...” Drinian exclaimed before getting interrupted.
“Stop Drin...Dolan!” Constance said, trying to cover up her mistake.
“Excuse me sir, but I believe my wealth or lack of it is none of your business. And as for calling me little lady, don’t think you can get anywhere flattering me!”
The man stood in apparent shock as Constance marched by, ignoring him completely.
Drinian chuckled to himself as he imagined what the man was thinking. Constance might be small in stature, but she sure knew how to speak her mind.
“You handled yourself very well back there, Constance. I am impressed,” Drinian whispered to her.
“Thank you. You see I do know how to take care of myself.”
“Indeed you do.”
During the remained of the walk through the camp they blended easily into the crowd. The only incident came when Drinian accidentally bumped into a young woman, causing her to drop a basket of apples. He hurriedly picked them up, and they continued on. They all gave a sigh of relief as they reached the edge of the camp.
“Well, we’ve made it this far now. The rest of journey should be easy going,” Woodphere sighed.
“I wouldn't count on it Woodphere,” Constance replied, as she gave him a mischievous smile.
The Meadow
The three companions could no longer see the Molter camp. The land was flat now, and covered with smooth silky grass. A few pine trees were scattered about, and mountains could be seen in the distance. A rive
r lay ahead of them, sparkling in the sunlight.
“A river? You did not tell me that we would encounter a river,” Constance said as they walked.
“It is not much of a river at all, and it is very easy to cross. The meadow lies beyond it,” Drinian replied.
“How deep is it?” Constance asked.
“I don’t think it’s very deep, although I’ve never been wet,” Drinian replied.
“What does that mean?”
“It looks like we may have trouble ahead,” Woodphere said.
“A group of four men were standing in the path. They were all older men, except for one, with long beards. They were dressed shabbily and in dirty robes.
“Thieves,” Drinian observed, looking straight ahead.
“They have weapons, Your Majesty,” Woodphere muttered.
“I see that too, Woodphere,” Drinian replied.
“Thieves? What are we going to do?” Constance asked looking up at Drinian.
“We must keep moving. Constance whatever happens do not look them in the eye,” Woodphere warned, as they cautiously moved ahead.
Constance took Drinian's hand as they approached the group of men. “These look like some wealthy folk,” said one of the men who had several missing teeth and a scrawny long beard.
“Aye, would you like to hand over that money you’re carrying,” said a man with a black eye and a noticeable limp.
“We will not give you any money,” Woodphere replied, looking straight ahead.
“What a pretty lass you have along with ya, we'll take her along with us,” said the younger man who had a jagged scar across his face.
“You will not take her either!” Woodphere said emphatically.
They walked faster with the thieves following close behind and whispering among themselves.
“Drinian, what are they saying?” Constance asked looking up at him.
“Shh!” Woodphere exclaimed.
“Who says we can't have your money and the girl,” one of the men shouted. Suddenly they all pulled out their knives and crept up behind them as Drinian yanked on Constance’s arm.
“Constance, follow Woodphere and run as fast as you can!” Drinian exclaimed.
A Path Toward Home (The Annals of Avonea) Page 10